


The Highest Form of Praise

by Belfire



Series: Fucked Up & Better For It [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Arkham (Video Games), Batman: Arkham Knight Genesis (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Hood/Arsenal (Comics)
Genre: 52-Dick is a jellybean, AK-Dick bitch slaps Jason often, AK-Dick is a fucking monster, AK-Jay is straight AF, AK-verse Bruce is dead, AK-verse Dick is batman, And Red Hood, Blood and Gore, Dark fic, Fluff and Angst, Forewarning AK-Jay is vulgar as fuck, HE IS, Hearing Voices, Jason Todd Is Arkham Knight, Multi, Multiverse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Torture, Past Underage Sex, Which makes RH's relationship with Roy very uncomfortable for him, crossover fic, or is he...?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-08-14 15:51:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 21
Words: 136,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16495679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Belfire/pseuds/Belfire
Summary: Jason never wanted to be the Knight, he never wanted to be hated by his family, never wanted any of what's come to pass.When he is mysteriously transported to a universe where the Arkham Knight never happened and he meets his doppelganger, Jason only sees how much better Red Hood's life is. Only one thing is on his mind: he wants the other-Jason's identity, relationships, his life. He wants to be the other-Jason.He doesn't hesitate to do as the voices keep suggesting and thus embarks on a deadly ploy to imitate and replace his counterpart, and this game is dangerous for everyone." You don't wanna fight me."Straightening, Jason readied himself to murder this Red Hood character whom he had so begun to hate. He wasn't going home until his knuckles ran raw with the bastard's blood. Hadn't he wanted someone to punch tonight? Who better, than the new bat?" You shouldn't've asked."





	1. Stay Away, We Will Hurt You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pudding_bretzel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pudding_bretzel/gifts).



> As per requested by my good friend, Anrim. Forewarning, AK-verse Dick and the fam are kinda monsters, but that's just part of the plot so stick with it.

The Arkham Knight was an emotionless beast of a man. Unphasable. Indestructible.  _Feared_. Beneath the skin and the armour, he was nothing, not flesh and blood, not a human being comprised of feeling.

But Jason Todd, the heart of weakness and humanity thudding inside the suit, was having a very,  _very_  bad day.

 

_" You're not one of us Jason. Not after everything you've done."_

_" Yeah?" Jason bit back, hurt, defensive "I never wanted to be!"_

_Glaring, Dick's gaze narrowed to a fraction of its previous proportion, nothing but hatred, anger, bitterness seeping hot from behind the whites of his mask._

_"You never were."_

 

Jason bit his tongue, grit his teeth, violently palmed the unwelcome tears from his eyes, leaving them more bloodshot and puffy than they were before. Fuck them! Who needed them?!

The helmet with pointed ears and a glass visor stared up from his hands and the fingers that held it too tight, showing his face reflecting on its smooth surface like he needed to be reminded of who the regret was.

That night, when Bruce finally found him, hand extended out towards him as he lay on the ground, and said those four words to him,

_" We can fix this."_

Jason had been damn fucked in the head enough to, for less than the blink of an eye,  _believe_  him. Believe that  _daddy_  had finally swooped in on his white horse and shining winged rodent suit to rescue him from the asylum and its horrors.

Jason had wielded a gun then, locked and loaded, ready to blast a hole into Bruce's face and why stop at just one, when he could pull back the trigger to his heart's content and  _finally_  make it right? But he hadn't, instead, he'd made like the retard Willis and Catherine always told him he was, and  _saved_  Bruce from Scarecrow, in place of how it should have been years ago, which was vice versa.

And then Bruce went and fucking died, and he  _broke_  that silent promise he made Jason. That promise to help him rediscover the strange notion of sanity. What it was like to not have constant rage pounding hard in his veins.

To not be afraid.

To not hurt.

To...  _Feel_ , feel more than those things that were born of hate and darkness inside the blood-stained white tile walls of Arkham where every spider that crawled the ceilings had a bone-chilling secret to share.

But Bruce died and now Dick perfect fucking Grayson wore the cowl with the black pointy ears, concealed white eyes filled with all those things that Nightwing could never say aloud to the second instalment of the Robin joke. Jason has always known Dick didn't like him, but that had been an unspoken thing. Now after Bruce's passing, the dumb bastard had gathered the courage to let him know so there was no grey area.

 

_" Mistake number one was wasting the Robin symbol on you, mistake number two was mourning your 'death'."_

 

Jason's teeth chipped at the edges, wishing he'd punched that beautiful face with the clear crystalline sky eyes in its perfect pearly mouth harder, really thrown all his hate behind the blow, but all his pain, his  _weakness_ , got in the way of that. Dick got away with a split lip while Jason got to go over every damn word and jibe he said now that he had the balls to do it.

He wasn't happy about what he did after he knocked the bird boy on his ass. Jason ran. He fucking  _ran away_  because he did not want Dick to have the satisfaction of seeing the pain he'd caused bleed out of his eyes and splinter cracks into his voice.

And now like always, Jason was alone. Alone and thinking, why the hell not? Why the hell not jump when this was the perfect place to do it? The roof of Arkham's tallest tower offered quite the view of the vast capital of debauchery, Gotham city,  _home_. 

Jason gazed upon her, all her twinkling lights, golden and others flashing red and blue, the distant shrieks of overlapping sirens, the dark shapes of buildings as they hideously rose against the skyline, and he thought to himself, this is the city you  _died_  to protect.

True, he wasn't dead in body, but the concept of being alive, truly alive, wasn't one that's description he fell into and hadn't for a very long time.

To be alive wasn't possible when the very notion he'd kept breathing for,  _revenge_ , dwindled out of care and no hope was left in the ashes.

So with that mind, if he jumped, he wouldn't be checking out of life, he would simply cease to exist and the world would move on when the sun rose upon the next dawn.

Identical to how it did five years ago.

Jason wasn't suicidal per se, at least he didn't think he was, but he was damn tired. He didn't want to die, much less be the one to kill himself, and he had no real desire to step off the edge, and yet he kept going over the question of why not?

Perhaps he was  _so_  used to the direction of his life being out of his control that now with Bruce and the Joker gone, a masochistic and messed up part of him wanted to do everything to the exact opposite of how he actually wanted it, simply because that was the normal he had been taught to live with.

And normal is safe, right?

Well, that depends what you classify as normal.

To some people, it's waking up every morning to breakfast ready in the kitchen and the only concern of the day is the foreboding pop quiz from math's class you feel coming because Mr Brown had a sadistic gleam behind his glasses when you left class yesterday.

Others would say normal is work, a lunch break early-afternoon, and returning home to a lovingly prepared meal with the family, then repeat again tomorrow.

Jason's normal was coming around at whatever location he was spending the night at to a hangover and the subtle disappointment of seeing another day.

 _Holy shit_ , he might actually be suicidal, mightened he?

If he was, no one - including himself - actually cared.

Jason gazed at the ground below, the driveway and cracked concrete steps leading to the twin arched door of the asylum that by themselves, screamed a warning to any who were stupid enough to come near and brave the inner compounds.

**_Stay away._ **

_**We will hurt you.** _

**_We will make you crazy._ **

**_They'll hate you._ **

_**They'll blame you.** _

**_And all you did was dare to live._ **

With a rough twist of his neck, Jason shook the orchestra of wailing ghosts from inside his skull. Near mythical in his monstrosity, Joker was there and all the rogues cheered with him. Bruce was there and his precious clan (that Jason wasn't part of) stared contemptuously at the dirty little family secret, wishing the next flood would wash him into a storm drain.

With the idea, a less-than-sane smile crept onto Jason's lips while he wondered if the fall would not kill him but shatter his legs instead, or would he get off easy by impaling himself on the razor-sharp points of the cast iron bars of the surrounding fence? Funny how exactly 433 days of torture can change your perspective on what getting off easy means. 

It had begun to drizzle, soft drops of clear water and Jason hadn't taken note of it despite his training to be aware of every subtle change in his surroundings, he only knew it was there when beads of liquid dripped from the tips of his bangs and rolled down his face. He tested the grip of his footing on the clay tiled roof, slippery when wet, and thought about how  _unfortunate_  it would be if he fell now and broke his neck.

How the Arkham Knight died: he slipped off a roof.

 _That_ , to Jason, was fucking hilarious despite how morbid it was. Like the best fucking joke ever cracked.

He thinks Mister J himself made that joke once long ago in some shape or form, taunting the bound and broken,  _helpless_ , Robin.

Or then it was Jason's insanity leading him to believe he'd heard that one before.

The smile had gone with the change from demented bittersweet merriment to how sombre the rain could make him. Jason tipped his head to stare up at the heavens, blanketed by thick grey mantles. An icy breath of wind tossed his hair like salad and nibbled on his cheeks. Sighing, Jason closed his eyes, remembering how tiring the constant war and battle could get. And who was he even fighting?

 _Note to self: find out who your enemy is on a later date._  Dick, probably. Tim, maybe. Barbara?

Jason scrunched his features up in thought. He used to have the biggest crush on her, pretty much unable to string together an intelligible sentence over his awkward stammering whenever she was in the room. He must have looked like a complete moron but she used to giggle at his idiotic remarks, or at least give him a smile, thus sparked his preference for redheads when it came to romance.

But Barbara chose  _them_. She chose Dick and she chose fucking  _Timothy Drake._

She chose to side against him.

_Add Barbara to the list of enemies._

Grimness fading back to the wild buzz in the back of his head, Jason laced his fingers behind his neck and grinned up at the sky, no care for how crazy he looked.  _Fuck_.  ** _Them_**.  _ **All**_.

 ** _" Why not kill them, pretty bird? Kill your enemies = no more enemies. Go on, it'll put a_ ** **_smiiiile_ ** _**on your face!"**_

Not for the first time that evening, Jason was asking himself why the fuck not? He chuckled quietly to himself, pleased with the notion. Watching the light leave their eyes like the blood draining from their bodies would certainly be worthwhile.

Jason remembered once watching National Geographic with Alfred, his favourite show back in the day due to his love for wildlife, and the episode showed viewers the catastrophic effects an oil tanker running aground had on a colony of penguins. The black toxins were cleaned up from the ice and ocean, but the ship couldn't be salvaged, so the government opted to sink it instead.

 _'We can fix this?'_  Eh, maybe fucking not. If it can't be fixed, burn everything to the fucking ground to make the damage final. It  _saved_  lives. It saved the penguins, didn't it? Sue him for using logic from a documentary and applying it to fight his battles.

_**Boom!** _

An eardrum-splitting burst of sound ripped through the air so close by that it caught him off guard entirely, sucking him into a blast of lightning fast light.

 

* * *

 

Grinding his teeth against the ache vibrating around his skull, Jason propped himself up on his elbows, the rough asphalt beneath him still wet from the thunderstorm that tried and failed to wash the city clean. Grit and mall stones encased his back and twin streams of drying blood ran down his upper lip from his nose. He reached out his hand and gingerly touched the back of his head, wincing and drawing a hiss of breath through his teeth when his fingers came back wet and red. 

" Jesus  _fuck_...." Jason groaned, lowering his head in between his hands and counting his breaths while he drew his knees up somewhat. What the fuck happened? There was an explosion and looking around, he appeared to still be in hell  _(aka Gotham),_  strewn out in an alleyway as filthy as the one he spent his formative years living in. Odd, he'd expected to wake up somewhere near the asylum, or was at least surprised not to be there. He hadn't put too much thought behind where he would come around.

Much as his head panged and the circumstances made no sense, Jason knew full well he needed to get up, because having your throat unprotected after dusk in this city was signing your own death certificate. Leave your back exposed, you die, it's that simple.

_One, two, three...._

Jason rose and for a moment, swayed, legs wobbling like they weren't sure yet if they were going to take his weight, but they quickly decided to be team players. He straightened, joints cracking.

In an inspection, Jason's hands first went to the holsters strapped to his belt, then to the ones encircling those thighs he couldn't go a day without getting cat-called for, and finally, to make certain his emergency gun was still clinging to his calf. He wasn't robbed blind while unconscious....

Ugh, fuck, nothing was making any sense.

_**" That's just the madness creeping in, laddie-boy! Makes you forget things. Yesterday, what you had for breakfast, who you love, how you wound up in this alley.... Ooh, do you think you were roofied and somebody-?!"** _

Grunting angrily, Jason clopped himself around the head with the heel of his hand to silence that sugary-sour lilted voice, gaining no satisfaction of the silence he got when it came with the dry howl of a cackle, retreating into his head.

 _"You're not crazy. You're not crazy, Jason._ _ **We** _ _are not crazy."_

" Zip it,  _Robin_." Jason growled, impatient with the voices on this particular tonight. He roughly dusted himself off with both hands, bits of dirt and gravel flaking off, and with purpose he wasn't feeling, began to march his way out of the alley, fists balled tight. He was no longer miserable because he had run into Dick, who'd some things to say, Jason was  _pissed_. He got over those comments and that explosion of no apparent origin or purpose, and was ready to punch someone. Or  _someones_. Multiple times. Maybe slit a few throats, depending on how he was feeling.

**_" Why not go find Dickie-bird or Timmy the lamb? They've got lovely, lovely throats to cut. I've always wanted to examine their arteries on the inside, but never got around to it and, haha, I guess it's too late now."_ **

Jason paid the voice no heed when it came back and grabbed his helmet from where it had rolled to the foot of a trash can, spilling day old caviar from a seafood restaurant onto the street.  _Nice_.  
Jason pulled a face, covering his lower face and leaving with his casque beneath his arm before the miasma could properly invade his nose. He could stomach the stench blood and guts for days, but rotting fish eggs? Fuck no. Hence why as a kid, he made sure to keep the alley he lived in clean at all times.

Jason stepped out onto the sidewalk and thrust his helmet back over his head, somewhat comforted by the familiar weight of it and squeeze around his face. The way it hid him from the prying eyes of those fascinated by the Knight, no one would guess that damn  _Dick_  had reduced him to fucking tears earlier.

**_"You cried like a little babe. So sweetly, just like you used to for uncle Joker."_ **

_"Shut up! I never did anything for you!"_

**_"Aw, now watch your language, little man. Daddy wouldn't want you yelling at your elders."_ **

_"He's not my-"_

" Could you two shut the fuck  _up_?!" Jason snapped when from above him, he heard a voice,

" You ain't got all your ducks in a row, have you, matey?"

Jason whipped his gun from his holster and while he had yet to lay eyes on the man, he had already found his aim and had the firearm trained on the guy by the time he turned 360.  _There_. He was up on the fire escape bolted into the side of the seafood restaurant and much to Jason's surprise, he wasn't the only one pointing a ready weapon.

Seems they were both well prepared.

The idiot extending his own gun of matching design, was to say the least, ridiculous to look at. Faded blue/grey jeans with black holsters similarly to how Jason had positioned his own, combat boots with a corset of tight laces cuddled up to his muscular calves. Through the grey skintight body suit, it was clear to see the muscles on his legs went all the way over him.  A giant red helmet that looked heavier than Jason's own mantle seemed ready to snap the man's neck with its weight, but the one thing Jason had to admit he liked about this punk biker look, was the jacket.

The dude had a sweet leather jacket on that looked older than time and twice as worn out as the saying 'bad things happen for a reason', but it wasn't without its roguish charm.

But what made Jason screw up his features in displeasure was the ugly crimson bat symbol taking up space on his chest like a giant warning flag. Who the fuck is this guy? Did Dickolas already have a new bitch sucking his namesake?

" Who the hell are you?" Jason demanded, up front like he always was, rude, snappy, and to the point.

" Could ask you the same thing, bucko." He replied and Jason felt he was being examined by the other. He didn't like it.

_**"Shoot! Shoot! Shoot! Liquefy his brains and drink 'em out his eye socket!"** _

" Y'know Halloween was two days ago, right?" The guy asked and it didn't go unnoticed that when he spoke, there was a smile in his voice. The bastard was amused. Jason hated it when people found him entertaining. That was reason enough decapitate the moron and send his head to get skull fucked by the nearest necrophile. There was a worrying amount of them in Gotham.

" You're a little dressed up, ain't ya?" With his gun, he swept up and down in motion to the Arkham Knight suit with its red/blue/black colour scheme and more straps and buckles than could be counted. 

" But I do like the pointy ears. Very.... Original." He added. " That your idea?"

" The fuck's that to you?" Jason snapped back, feeling attacked. " You're not exactly in civvies yourself."

He tipped his red head in acknowledgement to the counterpoint.

" Touché." Gripping the railing with his spare hand, the latest bat bitch jumped off his perch on the fire escape and landed on his feet, on the ground. There was a remarkably loud clapping noise when the rough rubber soles of his boots met the asphalt, startling the scared little Robin in Jason's head. He heard the boy's breath shudder. The kid was pathetic to be so easily scared.

Jason watched warily, ready to pump lead out the muzzle of his gun until the sun came up, while the guy approached with confident strides the likes of which Jason was yet to see a comparison to. Jason carried himself with purpose and a mission in mind, not with confidence. Not with pride.

Not. Like.  _That_.

" Now," he said when he was less than a meter away, coming to a halt closer than Jason wanted him.

" Who are you, and why are you in my city?"

"  _Your_  city?" Jason choked. The bastard had a real wild delusion going on if he really thought Bat-Dick was gonna let some inverted Jack-o-lantern take over Gotham. 

" This is the Bat's stomping ground." Jason said, as if he actually cared about someone violating Dick's patrol grounds.

The guy shrugged one shoulder, never lowering his weapon. Casual as he appeared to be, his nonchalant guise was just that, a facade hiding the fact that Jason recognised a man ready to fight on a second's notice. That makes two of them.

" The big man Bats lets me play around his turf every now and a again, so long as I'm good." He explained and Jason frowned behind the cover of his visor, unsure he had ever heard anyone refer to Dick with such a term, but that confirmed his suspicions as to who this man was to the Bats.

Having figured it out, Jason chuckled to himself and shook his head at the ludicrous reality. This time, he knew the other was frowning in confusion at his break in mannerism.

" How many times did you have to let him top you to be allowed to wear that?" Jason asked sardonically, gesturing to the symbol that stuck out like an ugly wound.

" Um, what?"

" Don't pretend like you could have gotten into the family unless it was by whoring yourself out. I didn't think Bats was into guys but I guess the exception  depends on what you look like under that hood."

The man's arm tensed up and he thrust the gun into Jason's space, despite Jason already having pinpointed the weak points in his armour, ready to put the discovery to good use. He sensed the shock of flash flood anger coming off the guy in waves.

" Watch your mouth before I put a bullet between your teeth." He threatened and Jason wanted to pat him on the head because that was honestly  _cute_. He himself wouldn't have bothered with a warning and shot the cunt who dared make a remark like that about him, point blank.

When they were this up close and personal, they both had the muzzle of a gun thrust up against each other's larynx and Jason was holding himself back from taking this idiot out because frankly, he wanted to know more about Dick's new princess. But he did wonder if killing him would hit a wrong chord with Dick. If so, Jason would do it.

" I ain't Batman's little slut, just so you know." He said, practically hissed, the rasp in his breath evident, a testimony to how badly he was pissed off.

" Or anyone else's."

" Yeah?" Jason scoffed, amused. " Then who are you?"

A microsecond silence commenced in which the tension grew and so did the intensity of the music in Jason's head, all creating the atmosphere for when he said,

" Red Hood."

_**" Ooh, like Little Red Riding Hood? Ask him if he has a basket of cookies for his grandma!"** _

_" No, you idiot. Red Hood like the gang that ruled Gotham a few years back."_

**_" Oh, now I remember! I used to be a Hood myself. I ever tell you that, kiddo?"_ **

" Shut the fuck up!" Jason exclaimed, unable to tolerate the voices and his conversation at once. If he was to make sense of one of them, he couldn't.  

**_" Hiihiihii! What's the matter, Jason? Annoyed by lil' ol' me?"_ **

_" Quiet!"_ Jason saw no other option than to hit himself around the head again in the hope that it would shut the damn clown up and let him  _think_. His hand bounced off the metal covering his head and left his palm stinging, never mind the kevlar gloves.

" You're fifteen kinds if fucked in the head, aren't you?" Red Hood asked, cocking his head up the same as his gun, the mouth of it giving Jason's throat a rather generous smooch and not appreciating the close contact, Jason did what any rational man who was arguing with the voices in his head would have, he punched Red Hood in the gut to make him stumble enough to have the right proximity to roundhouse kick him upside the fucking head. 

Only, that's not the way it went down. As if he had the training to match, Red Hood wasn't quick enough to block the fist to his midriff, but when Jason tried kicking him, he twisted his torso out of his path the likes of which defied human anatomy, and smashed his heel into Jason's side faster than he'd been prepared for his foe to move. The body armour swallowed most of the impact but he still lost his footing. Jason, however, caught himself before he became one with the sidewalk and  _now_ , he was properly ticked off.

" Trust me, crazy," Red Hood said, and this was sounded like a warning.  _Pft_. Like Jason actually needed to be warned off.

" You don't wanna fight me." 

Straightening, Jason readied himself to murder this Red Hood character whom he had so begun to hate. He wasn't going home until his knuckles ran raw with the bastard's blood. Hadn't he wanted someone to punch tonight? Who better, than the new bat?

" You shouldn't've asked."


	2. Crazy

Jason spun around and centred all his willpower into the kick he dealt the armoured crazy guy, who was making a mockery of Bruce's suit with his cute thin red/blue line flag colour scheme and the pointy ears on his helmet with the glowing blue eyes. Dude looked like a fucking Disney villain in Jason's opinion. But that aside, he sure knew how to  _dodge,_ noblow Jason threw came closer than a few inches, scraping past his body, but that was mutual. Both physically and quite literally, neither could touch the other enough to cause serious harm. They connected hit after hit for what seemed like hours, both eager for the other's blood.

Jason bent backwards, onto his knees, an angry kick tearing the space above him into two with a _woosh!_ of the wind folding around the blur-fast limb with a desire to split his skull down the middle. A brief second of vulnerability on Crazy's left flank was the symptom of the failed manoeuvre, and the window Jason crashed his knee into the instant he was back on his feet. He tried to hit higher, bruise some ribs, and even if he hadn't fallen victim to his opponent's lighting reflexes, his metal encasing of armoured plates would have been impenetrable to the strike. 

 _This was odd,_ Jason thought, midway through backflipping out of Crazy's rampaging fists, a move that caught him under the chin and snapped his jaws shut on the tip of his tongue, all while Jason landed on his feet a short distance away. 

Every martial artist had their small added signatures to their fighting styles, something that set them apart and it was rarely an element they added knowingly, only becoming aware of it later on when they truly began to understand their skill in battle. Jason knew how good he was, no stranger to how his brain translated what he was seeing into reactions for his body to carry out. There was rarely a moment where he didn't know what he was going to do, but that information was strictly his and his alone, yet here was his foe, who seemed to be enacting everything he was without ever having the time to analyse Jason's fighting patterns. Jason kept switching around, never sticking to one routine longer than a few blows, but that wasn't throwing off the guy's almost mystical ability to foresee him. 

It was impossible to surprise Crazy with an attack when it was like punching his reflection in the mirror. If Jason didn't know any better, he'd say they were the same person. How do you fight someone who looks identical to your weight and height? If you're smaller than the enemy, you have an angle. If you're bigger, twice as good. But the same? Well, it was doable but considerably more difficult, especially with an opponent as skilled as this.

As if that wasn't icing enough, the cherry on top was that he was too fast for Jason to take the short time he usually would to pinpoint the weak spots in his suit.

Jason blocked each of the series of punches with his forearms, coming in a flurry of rage, and this guy was seriously beginning to tick. Him.  _Off_. Originally, he'd intended to find out the new mask's angle and business in the city, not fight him if it was avoidable, but the idiot rubbed that option out of existence with the blunt force of those comments he made. 

But Jason did see one thing he could use to his advantage. Well, two things. Numero uno was that Crazy kept arguing with someone unseen and yelling at them to shut up, momentarily losing his concentration in the fight, even if it was a little, less than a second. Two, Jason's opponent used his left arm to swing and pass hits, while he reserved his right only for punches, as if rotating his shoulder in an arch was out of the question.

Old injury? Was he not ambidextrous? Whatever the reason,  _there_  was Jason's loophole.

Jason sidestepped, jumped back, wasting no more effort on pounding him to mush, instead saving his energy and waiting for the moment when,

" Shut.  _Up_!" Crazy yelled at whatever was going on behind his visor and in his head, midway through attempting to bury his balled hand in Jason's face, picking his right arm to do this and Jason swore, he would turn that hasty decision into a quick regret.  

Tensing his muscles to their rock hardest, he widened his stance for balance and snagged Crazy's wrist, twisting around to use momentum to his own advantage, which made it a cakewalk for Jason to spin the other around, twist his arm to get him doubled over, right onto the knee Jason had ready to plough into his face.  _Smash! Smash! Smash!_  Jason felt the glass of his visor cracking under the assault and pushed the joints of the man's shoulder to the limits, winding his arm up like the crank of a music box for that additional lyrical gasp of pain. 

 _Ah_ , Jason should become a composer of the classical arts for how beautiful that sounded.

And his brothers said his taste in music was shit.

" _Raah_!" Crazy screamed past his teeth, clenched from the damage Jason had proudly caused, escaping his captivity when he threw his weight around Jason just in time to save himself the agony of a dislocated shoulder.  Jason wasn't fast enough to slip out of the headlock that closed around his throat and Crazy damn  _picked_  him up off the ground by a few inches when he jerked his arm up, trying to break his neck but failing with the strain on his right rotator cuff weakening him.

He tried it again and when realising he didn't have the necessary strength to go for the instantaneous kill, Crazy put his god all into throwing Jason violently into the alley wall with an angry yell.  _Throwing_  him!

Finally, he did something that was new to Jason because quite honestly, being manhandled in a fight was alien to him when he came to battling someone other than Batman or Bane. Ragdolling Jason was exclusive to those two and a select but few others.   

Jason hit the rough grey brickwork with a thwap he wouldn't soon forget, then met the ground before his hands were fast enough to cushion the fall. 

"  _Arh_." Jason growled with annoyance at his sloppy work there, but he didn't waste his time and the lessening space between him and Crazy to lollygag on that notion, but put it to good use, returning fast to his god intended position, upright.

" You're really starting to piss me off." Jason informed him with the wall to his back as Crazy approached, spinning his injured shoulder to return it to reasonable function.  

" Then get off the streets and climb back on Batman's dick if you can't take a fight." He bit back and managing to ignore the remark, Jason saw small electrical sparks bouncing off Crazy's helmet from the obvious breaks stretching across half the visor, and you know what? With the faceplate damaged, Jason caught a glimpse of part of his face. Just his cheekbone, the corner of his mouth and part of his eye, coloured angry cold blue. An ugly, uneven scar carved to look like a letter - either an I or a J - traced the length of his cheek, remarkably obvious and somewhat disfiguring.  

Jason was captivated by the white rimmed pink cicatrix, going purple in the cold, and just how.....  _powerful_  it was in its inhumanity. It looked like a mark of ownership, a brand like those used on cattle at ranches, and with that sat there, it drew Jason from closer studying any of his other features, on partial display. 

" Where'd you get that scar?" Jason asked while he jumped back to avoid a boot to the middle, back thudding into the brick wall behind and this probably wasn't the best time to ask questions to nourish his curiosity with. 

" Go ask Batman." Crazy responded darkly. There was an unmistakable amount of hatred in his voice when he said it, like he knew some evil laying in plain sight that no one else could see. He probably saw and heard a lot of shit no one else did.

His response did, however, interest Jason. The way this guy spoke with familiarity regarding Bruce, his fighting technique, and the obvious fact that he was imitating Batman's look to yank his chain all made Jason ask himself the question, does Bruce know this man? He did look somewhat familiar even if he still remained hidden for the majority, and it wouldn't exactly be unlike Jason's former mentor to leave someone from the past in the past, never to come up in conversation.

" I would," Jason said, narrowly avoiding a blow that hit the bricks where his head had been a second ago. Close call aside, he still insisted on running his mouth off.

" But Bats is currently outta town. Why'd you think I'm toddlin' around his patrol route tonight?" He asked and chatty though he now was, Jason knew he seriously needed to get some space, some room to move but he was cornered and every attempt to weave his way out of this ended with him being more blocked in than before, until he felt like the contents of a tube of toothpaste. 

" He left you in charge?  _Jesus_ , Dick must really think highly of you. What's that like?" 

Crazy's hand catapulted into Jason's exposed throat, wrapping strong fingers around it and sliding him up the wall until his boots dangled a foot above the ground, the rub of the course bricks intense on his back what little it got through his clothes.  

Crazy reached behind his back to retrieve something and two things went through Jason's mind, how the fuck did he know Nightwing by name? And secondly:  _escape_. Choking was a curious experience, different from bleeding or suffering a broken limb in the sense that when you couldn't breathe, panic automatically kicked in without a build up of tension. Even when you were a seasoned master of long distance and hand-to-hand combat, getting your oxygen supply cut off lead to certain instinctive emotions Jason would rather not experience for their unprofessional nature. 

Jason snapped a flicker-fast flash of moonlight glinting off the steel in Crazy's hand when it came back and automatically knew,  _knife_. Damn. Not in the mood to be gutted tonight, Jason released the charge from the taser built into his chest plate and the problem with having 40% of his suit being metal, Crazy was wrapped in an electrical conductor. Bright flashes, the currents tore through him and he gave a shaky scream when he stumbled back, dropping Jason while small plumes of smoke rose from him, the soft rubber and kevlar joints of his armour sizzling. 

But he stayed standing when the weapon used on him had knocked an Amazon out.

The reason Jason had been showing restraint when it came to the taser, was that he'd already used it that night (long story) and it hadn't regained its charge even halfway, which meant it had the discharge power of balloon static as far as Jason was concerned. But not a total loss, he was no longer choking and got that distance he so desired. 

Having previously made the mistake of thinking he had Crazy down for the count, Jason decided fuck hand-to-hand when firearms were a ready option. The dual pistols felt like the return of extensions to his body when their familiar weight filled his palms, reaping the full pleasures out of being kitted out to the nines like a true bat.

"  _Hey_ ," Jason said and when Crazy looked up, eyes - or the one that was in part visible - white-hot level angry, like he might  _eat_  Jason for pissing him off this bad. Never mind, with his neck straightened, Jason pulled back both triggers to the clear aim of his chest.

" Get up from this,  _bitch_!" He dared over the deafening bang, bang, bang and sparks flew wildly across space and time when his bullets connected hard with Crazy's suit, clanging loudly on his steel but this guy must be superhuman or just a stubborn fuck because he pushed,  _forced,_  his legs to straighten and crossed arms over his face, started taking laborious but intent steps towards Jason.  He dragged his feet but wasn't showing any signs that he was about to allow the rapid gunfire to throw him back or pin him down. 

" You're fucking dead,  _princess_!" Crazy screamed and Jason believed him. It was in his best interests to stay out of hand's reach. The only person he had ever seen get as angry as this display.... was himself. Anger this powerful, this raw, was dangerous and he knew that more acutely than most. A dangerous weapon, that is. 

Jason knew he was wasting ammo and wanted,  _wanted_ , so much to quit aiming at the dude's body and hit that part of his face that was unshielded, lodge a bullet nice and tight in his brain, but Bruce's godforsaken no-kill rule was there, blaring in red letters stuck in capslock in front of him whenever he began to consider the kill was the only option.

_There's always another way._

_Yeah?_ Jason thought to himself, teeth grit as he made quick work to reload.  _Why don't you come down and share that with me?_

" Fucking  _die_!" 

Jason yelped in surprise when the yell came accompanied by Crazy lunging at him, throwing both arms around his waist and tackling him to the ground, guns landing on opposing sides of him and far out of reach, where they were useless.

What seemed to be an incredulous weight holding him down, Jason tried to shield his face from the battering of fists with his hands but that worked only semi. Fortunately, his helmet was there, fateful as always, to save him the broken eye socket and splintered nose. Still, this  _wasn't_  painless.

" You're  _his_  new slut, ain't ya?" Crazy demanded in a ways that matched his namesake, dragging a second dagger from his boot with Jason pinned under him.

" You're Dick's boy,  _aren't you?_ " He kept going off the rails and slammed the knife into Jason's wrist, right in the small gap between his glove and the hem of his sleeve, that only exposed part. Jason shrieked in pain and tried pulling back and  _pulling_  free of the impaling blade, but it kept pushing until Jason felt the agony of it sliding through the bones in his arm and to his eye-widening horror, the point of it began to show on the other side, pricking through his skin with a ribbon of blood he knew was about to get much,  _much_  bigger. Fast.

" How's he like to have you?" Crazy inquired, fury red and raw, and it was a literal power struggle between him trying to shove the knife into Jason's eye and Jason doing his absolute best with his spare hand wrapped around his wounded wrist, and keep his trembling arm elevated as it was his only barrier. To use himself as a shield like this wasn't something he particularly enjoyed, yet this was getting off the easy way when compared to having a dagger embedded in his head. 

" Over his knee?" He gave up with the knife, released it and got off Jason, but only grab his helmet near the chin and thrust his fingers beneath it for a firm grip. Jason writhed violently, trying to break the hold on him and striking any part of Crazy he could hit with his fist, while his other hand was rendered basically useless with the knife still jutting out of it. Jason gagged when he was dragged across the ground like a sack of trash, neck twisted back against the rough hand invading his hood.

" Maybe with your damn legs around his neck?" Crazy swung back and threw Jason a distance, an action in which Jason rolled a couple times but got back up near instantly, though this time, backing away from his opponent while he held his wrist tight, that gushed like a fucking broken water main. No charge left in his taser, no guns, and down to half his physical capabilities? Jason didn't need to be a realist to know this was fucking bad. This guy.... let's just say, he's been underestimated. 

"  _Or_ ," Crazy procrastinated the period in that sentence to reach behind him and take the thing that had  _somehow_ , gone past Jason. A big fucking gun. An assault rifle, to be more precise, and there was a full fucking clip of forty rounds on it. If his eyes hadn't been wide before, then they sure as hell were now, especially when the muzzle was trained on him.

"... Does he have his hands around your throat while you're handcuffed to the hood of the Batmobile, your wrists running raw? He was always kinda kinky. Bet no is yes, too."  

That said, gotten out there, he opened fire. 

"  _Crap-!_ " Jason exclaimed, throwing himself to the side, out of the gunfire. This went from shit to shitstorm in seconds, he thought while scrambling back up, managing to get his mitts around the handle of one of his discarded guns, but fuck lotta good that would do him now. 

He thrust the firearm into his holster, not even taking the care to properly secure it with the clip strap because quite frankly, he had no frigging time to spare with this gunslinging lunatic going bat-shit crazy on his ass. Was this was it was like to fight him? He would dwell on that later, in the meanwhile: Jason jumped up and grabbed the lowest rungs of a ladder, attached to the fire escape he'd originally descended from, and worked like hell with his one usable arm to pull himself up enough to climb. Once he got up onto the grate, there was a whole lot of stairs to run up. He hated to be the guy to back off, but he hated being the idiot who didn't know when it was game over even more. 

Crazy stopped firing like the maniac he was long enough to pursue Jason up the fire escape because  _goddammit_ , he was really intent on what he set out to do.  

" Running already? Didn't think Dickie recruited you 'cos you were any good in a fight, but this is fucking bullshit!"

Jason glanced over his shoulder to see Crazy just two flights down from him, gun in hand and that unmistakable hint of murder-happy mirth entering his voice when he called out the taunts. The thrill of the chase was always better than the fight itself. Take it from someone with experience. 

Jason muttered fiery profanities under his breath when he popped himself over onto the roof, increasing the cursing tenfold and hissing through his teeth when spikes of pumice sharp pain ran the line of his wrist, still dripping liquid rubies like a valveless tap. Shit. He needed to get that blood flow under control asap, or kiss goodbye to getting home alive tonight. Screw him and his  _brilliant_  idea to tell Roy he didn't need backup tonight. Jason Todd, using what god put in his cranium, as per the norm. 

Speaking of using his god-given acumen (what a joke!), Jason unclipped a gas grenade off his utility belt, plucked the pin, and tossed it down the way he had come. He didn't think it would do much and the smoke sure as fuck wouldn't deter Crazy, given how he still had his helmet's coverage protecting his face, but it should slow the mad fuck down a bit. 

Jason heard the hiss of gas and the cloud rising behind him as he jogged across the roof, soles of his boots cracking against the concrete, a drip, drip, dripping trailing after him and leaving a nice obvious path for Crazy to see and track him, no effort required. 

He wasn't even gonna try outrun this guy, or his fucking bullets because only one of those was doable. He trotted to a roof mounted AC and pried the cover off with some struggle, all thanks to his lame hand, hoping when in the building, that he can stay out of the rifle's eye long enough to at least patch himself up.

" Get back here, bitch!" Crazy yelled and from the corner of his vision, Jason saw a silhouette rising onto the roof, wrapped in tendrils of gas and smoke.

" We're not through!" 

Oh,  _fuck_  him. Jason flipped him off, seriously doubting he saw the gesture, and jumped into the mouth of the AC, sliding on his back down the vent for just seconds before he crashed against the grate that stood no chance when faced with the sudden appearance of his weight. The screws tore loose from the ceiling, no problem, and an ear-pricking clang blew up across the empty interior of the building when they, the grate, and Jason all landed in the same place. 

" Ow,  _fuck_." Opening his eyes from the wince, Jason muttered under his breath, straightening and being well aware there was a bloody handprint left where he had been standing when he was gone. The first strides sorted out his mild limp, allowing him to jog. The building, a storage facility if he had to take a guess, filled with crates stacked high and he really didn't care what was in them, not when there was a gun-wielding madman on his heels. Jason was unused to being on this side of gun violence.

Jason wove his way between the crates, barely out of sight when he heard the crash of Crazy joining him and yay, because Jason  _so_  missed him. 

" Hiding now, slut?" That sardonic, new arrogantly confident filtered voice called out. " You really are pathetic." He cocked his gun and if the footfalls were any indication, he was searching. Intending to make that difficult for him, Jason held his cupped palm out to catch the blood droplets, soaking into the material of his gloves instead of making those German twins from the Brothers Grimm tale jealous with the marked path he left. 

Jason pressed himself into the side of a large stack of crates, allowing out a small sigh, taking a breather lasting less than a second to wrap his fingers tight around the hilt of the knife, still making its home in him. That shit needed to come out. He sunk his molars into the meat of his cheek and pulled, stifling the whimper between his clamped teeth. Wedged in nice and proper, the blade slid out slowly, putting up an excessive fight like its owner, but alas, Jason wasn't going home beaten by two tonight. With a final flourish, the thing flew out, a fresh spurt of blood on its ass faster than fast. 

Jason exhaled slow, pain like a live wire twisting out of control in his limb when he set aside the dagger that had done this, taking care not to drop it and make too loud a sound. He didn't need to be found just yet. Next, Jason fumbled through the compartments of his belt for a small plastic tube of clotting gel. He tore the cap off with his teeth, spat it out the side of his mouth, and pressed the nozzle up against the ragged lesion, glad to get this done now, just as his vision was beginning to get fuzzy on the outlines. Jason squeezed the sides of the tube, watching as the white gel filled the wound, instantly relieving with its cooling properties, drinking up the blood and sealing the parting. He'd need stitches later, but this would do for now. 

He panted, sweat damp in his hair and pearly on his forehead, moving to grab his gun and going through all the ways he could hide this incident from Bruce, because that bastard out there was fucking  _dying_  tonight. Rule or no rule, the guy was dead. First, for making those ridiculous and quite frankly, gag-inducing remarks about him and Dick that not even God could take a guess where he got from. And if that alone wasn't enough, he stabbed Jason then shot at him. He'd killed for less reasons.

But then his comm vibrated in his ear with a call coming in, thus putting a halt to his planning. Annoyed, he pressed it on and snapped, the hiss of his whisper carrying further than he would have liked.

"  _What_?" 

"  _You okay, babe?_ " It was Roy. Roy Harper.  Calling him now of all times for god-knows-what reason. Jason had left him at their shared safehouse when he went out on patrol and one thing was clear, he couldn't have picked a worse moment to call, but not answering or straight up hanging up woulda made the dumb ginger fuss more. 

 _" You haven't checked in for an hour."_ That's right. Jason was supposed to give him a call for a routine check-in, let him know nothing on patrol had become a disaster he couldn't handle. Jason intended to do that twenty minutes ago, before Crazy came along and created those scenes he himself was usually responsible for.

" I'm kinda in a tight spot here, 'Nal." Jason explained, glancing over the side of his cover but seeing no sign of his pursuer. Anyone would tell you, not knowing where the enemy was, was bad, especially when there's no way he had given up. He was stalking.

" Can't really talk right now."

Immediately, he heard the differentiation in Roy's breathing, going from concerned to something else. Bless, he was such a model partner, especially for a guy who roasted shower curtains with DIY flamethrowers. 

 _" Need backup? I can be there in five."_  He heard the sound of fabric rustling through the tiny speaker, Roy was no doubt already on his feet and gearing up. He wasn't going to wait for Jason to let him know whether or not he could do this on his own. His protective instincts got in the way of that and while Jason would have rolled his eyes at that any other day, he might actually need some help taking this bitch down. 

" I'm at the storage facility opposite that seafood place Dick likes."

_" Copy that. Hang in there."_

" Heads up, the guy has a massive gun -  _argh-_!" 

Jason's words caught in his throat when the seeming weight of the world dropped onto him from the crates above his head, coming coupled up with that voice he was adding to his top ten most detested things in existence. 

" Found ya, bitch." Grinning, Crazy rasped in his ear, pinning him face down on the ground, arms trapped by just one of his powerful hands. He pulled Jason's head back to viciously slam it into the concrete with a vigour he'd previously denied himself as he kept going. Blood exploded inside Jason's hood, from either a busted lip or broken nose (maybe both), his gasps leading to him inhaling sips of the coppery sludge.  

 _" Jason? Babe?! You There?!"_ Roy panicked, anxious, straight into Jason's field of registration but he was unable to give a reply of any sorts, outside of the slams of metal on stone, not with the battery he was under. His neck would break if this didn't stop soon, he knew it, vertebrae crying out along with everything else.

_" Jay?!"_

" Bet Dick won't want ya when your face is ruined." Crazy went, rising after a final slam that split a crack through the side of Jason's helmet, letting some of the blood out and allowing him to breathe easier. That is, until a boot collided with his midriff and sent him across the floor with a yelp, disbelieving of anyone beating his ass like this. He used to like to believe only Bruce could do this, and that was because he's Batman. With those thoughts, he struggled onto all fours, wracked by coughing out what air remained in his lungs.

" Run now, you little bitch." Crazy said, just before he picked up Jason's fallen gun, cocked it, and fired a shot, straight into Jason's leg. Now, Jason wasn't his crazed companion, dressed head to toe in enough iron and kevlar to make ten bat suits, which meant the shot tore into him, effortless as it ripped through his muscle and thudded into the mess it made of his tibia.

Jason screamed blood-curdling agony, wicked claws of pain riveting sharp into his raw nerves the likes of which could not be put into words. He must have gasping too hard from the sheer shock of it to realise when Crazy added sadism to gun violence, pounding another two lead lumps right after the first and finding some sick merriment in Jason's shrieks and the way his life fluids exploded into a puff of fine crimson mist.

" Now," he smirked, following Jason with easy-going strides down the red trail of drag marks him trying to pull himself away had left. He knelt when he was close enough, fingers finding the air catch of Jason's helmet with the experience of a man of similar equipment, all while he held Jason in place by his neck, leaving him in no position to resist the dull harsh points of his digits framing his spine.

" Let's see what Dickie-bird likes about your face so much." The airlock hissed its release when Crazy pushed down and without sparing force, roughly yanked the hood from over Jason's head, flinging it uncaringly over his shoulder before examining the face it had hidden.

Seeing his features on full display, Crazy froze in stare and the something that made his eyes go wide.

"... What the  _fuck_?"  

Jason didn't understand what baffled him so, and his intense excruciation didn't mean he didn't see the flash of opportunity before him when Crazy let his defences go.  Grunting loud, Jason kicked out at him with his good leg, smashed his boot into his helmet with a burst of force and actual rage, that cannonballed Crazy back away from him, making them equal because that last and final hit was what it took to  _shatter_  his faceplate into fragments.

Distance reclaimed, Jason crawled and reached for his gun but Crazy slammed his foot down on Jason's hand, a twist of his ankle grinding it into the ground. Jason whined but didn't dignify him with a scream this time, glancing up with hatred and daggers in his stare when with a jolt, he realised what the other had been so fixated about. 

Glaring down at him with hate and fury to match his own, was... himself? A chunk of glass from the broken visor had lodged itself in his cheek and now stood pointedly out of his flesh, right above his distinctive alphabet scar, now hidden by the stream of blood. That aside, he'd have to be brain dead not to recognise those suspicions he'd toyed with were correct. He  _was_  fighting his own reflection. But not only did that not make sense in any way, shape or form, it was also impossible.

" Who - who are you?" Jason whispered, beyond himself with confusion.

" That's gonna be your question to answer." Crazy... or himself said, sinister and foreboding when he snapped Jason's head back with a powerful kick, aimed just right to hurl him into a spiral to blackness. 

* * *

 

**_" That was unexpected, wasn't it, pet? Did not see that coming!"_ **

For once since first hearing the clown in his head four years ago, Jason made absolute work of letting everything he said go unregistered, too fixated on the fact that he had literally, battled with himself. He was so confused and disturbed that he hadn't even stopped going over this discovery to remove the shard of glass from his cheek or leave the building he'd chased himself to. He stood on the middle of the roof, exposed and out in the open for anyone to take a shot at him. 

**_" The kid was you! You! Isn't that bizarre? Maybe you've finally gone all the way to crazy town?"_ **

Jason stared down at his hands,  opening and closing them slowly, at a loss as to if anything he was seeing was actually real anymore. That couldn't have been him that he beat to mush, but they looked identical to the T, say for the scar. Maybe that was all a hallucination? He'd had plenty of those before and not realised until after, but his fists were slick with  _real_  blood. The smell and consistency were all too real.

Was this something to do with Slade? A stupid test or experiment of some sort? No. that sounded more illogical than the former. There's no way the old bastard would have found someone so remarkably similar in both physique and features, as himself. And even if he had by wonder, done that, then there was no reason as to why.

" There you are." The sound of approaching fast footfalls was the only thing that made Jason realise that voice was real, not in his head. Now who was it? He turned slowly around, completely unsure what to expect next. Another him? A whole army of imitators? He didn't have enough ammo or energy to fight off an army.

" You alright? And what are you wearing?" 

Jason watched at the newcomer through eyes hooded with tiredness and confusion. A redheaded archer had joined him on the roof, looking at him concerned like, as if they were familiars. He came closer to Jason, no hesitation when it came to how intimidating he looked, even without his mask there was still the arsenal that was straddled to him and his sheer size. Not to mention he was fairly sure he didn't look remotely approachable. 

The archer had green eyes, clear and perfect green like precious stones, and they were doused with both concern and relief. Until he saw the glass embedded in Jason's cheek, then there was just worry the likes of which he hadn't seen expressed in years.

" Babe, what happened?"

_**" Ooh... This just got interesting!"** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think we all knew AK would win that fight.


	3. Posing As Your Poser

It took Jason longer than he cared to admit, to realise the red-headed archer was that guy he once met, when he was a kid, on his first mission with the Teen Titans. That didn't last long. His name was Speedy, or had he changed it to Red Arrow at some point? Jason didn't know, he hadn't kept up on Titans gossip and developments after they kicked him out for not being Dick Grayson. He didn't know and quite frankly, didn't care.

" Babe," Why the fuck was Speedy calling him that?

" What happened?" He asked with the feign of caring, extending a non-hesitant hand to touch his face and the glass embedded there, drying blood hiding his scar, until it begins to flake, that is. Before he could bring himself closer, Jason slapped him away hard enough to make his hand snap back, indubitably hard enough to hurt him.

" Fucking touch me, and I'll put one of your arrows through your head." This comment had fire in it and that took Speedy aback as if someone could actually be surprised by his tongue anymore. Or the fact that he didn't want anyone to talk to or touch him, and if they did, he would not respond well.

" Whoa, Jason, are you okay?" His eyes, those pretty sparkling emeralds Jason could see through his mask, widened with what looked like surprise and worry. Fucking worry. He held his hand, rubbing away the stinging of the blow Jason wished he had made harder.

" Fuck's that to  _you?"_

" Babe, you're hurt." Speedy motioned to his smashed visor and the cuts and bruises caking his features. He tried to take another precautionary step in Jason's direction but he responded with one back, hand hovering above the gun at his hip. Speedy took note of that and took the hint to  _back_.  _The_  fuck off.

"  _Stop_. Calling me that." Jason hissed at him and that was a command that's disobedience would end with one less archer under the night sky.

"  _Jason_ , what happened? I called you, you said you were fightin' some guy with a gun."

That little  _bitch!_  Jason should have known the worthless slut couldn't get in a single fight without calling his ginger pimp to save his ass.

" Did - did he do this to you? Where is he now?"

" I beat that fucking bitch within an inch of his life, and he's regretting ever thinking he was a match for me." Now  _that_ , wasn't untrue. It was the most realistic thing he had ever said and he still thinks he could have smashed that impersonator up better.

" Okay, you won, that's good." Speedy said, folding his bow and clipping it behind his back, approaching with his hands out, like Jason was an animal cornered and bearing his teeth. _Come closer,_ he thought, _and I'll bite your fucking hands off._

**_" Ooh, bite him! Bite! Bite! Let's turn this from confrontation to kinky porn!"_ **

Jason winced at the rasp in his head, but didn't let it bother him much. Not enough to distract, that is.

" How 'bout you let me take a look at that cut? It looks pretty deep, Jay." Speedy told him, voice cotton-soft as if he thought a word too high pitch could send Jason off the edge and into a panic attack. Jason did wonder, what sort of a spineless loser his doppelganger was if these things would set him off. No surprise he went down so easy, easier than a hooker went down on anyone waving a dollar.

" Don't fucking bother, Speedy."

Speedy paused, silently mouthing the word like it didn't properly go through his thick fucking skull, before he could come up with something to pose as a response of intelligence.

" Jay, I dunno how hard you were hit, but you're not you right now. Let me check you over, please?"

" Fuck.  _Off_." Jason said, already rotating on his heel to leave the archer on the roof with just his own idiocy for company. He was gonna go to HQ to figure out why the hell a replicate of him was running around wearing a bat symbol, or to find Slade and demand to know what the hell was going on. Wherever he was headed, it would be a better use of his time than spending it here.

" Jason, wait," Speedy reached out and took his hand to stop him, the sudden touch frightening enough to make him jump an inch or two. He spun back around and aimed a punch at Speedy, only he wasn't quite as slow as he looked. He ducked underneath Jason's arm and although the moment of vulnerability on Jason's right side presented itself, Speedy didn't get a strike of his own in, and that surprised Jason.But he wasn't humbled or reassured by that small gesture of mercy, quite the opposite, he seized advantage of it in the form of the kick to Speedy's chest that sent him across the roof and onto his back with a hard thud and click-clacking when his arrows rolled out his quiver, across the ground.

Coming nearer, Jason didn't allow him to get up, planting his boots on either side of Speedy's arms, hard rubber soles digging into his biceps and Jason took specific care to hurt him. The fucking ginger twat deserved it.

Speedy pulled on his limbs a bit but the way he looked up at Jason was trust amidst puzzlement, worry, but fucking  _trust_. There was no such thing between them. Jason met his eyes with nothing but contempt.

" B - babe, what are you doing?" He asked and there were exactly thirty-two ways he could have broken free, even with his skill set as unremarkable as it was, but he executed none of them.  _Cute_. He thought Jason wasn't a danger to him. Jason was a danger to everyone and none more than to himself.

" Let me up, please? You're hurting me."

 _Ha!_  Like he cared! Like that wasn't the angle here! Jason didn't comply or even acknowledge his plea outside of grinding his heels deeper into the meat of Speedy's arms and he really,  _really_  enjoyed that flicker of pain darting across his face. The way it pulled the corners of his lips taut, showed the points of his teeth, and narrowed his eyes to match the sharp pain burrowing into him, it was  _beautiful_.

**_" Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill!"_ **

" J -  _Jason_?" Speedy said like the weak mouseling he was, the cold lack of empathy he saw on Jason's face enough to send chills down into his bones and the marrow beyond that. Jason crouched down, still pinning him down, with a  _swish_ _,_  unsheathing his knife from his boot and examining the faultlessly sharp blade coyly. He felt Speedy stiffen and shiver underneath him and  _by god_ , if that wasn't satisfying, nothing was. Speedy licked his lips and swallowed heavily, visible by the bob in his throat.

" Jason,  _honey_ , what happened? What's wrong with you?"

" Y'know," Jason said and aligned the knife with Speedy's windpipe, the pale underside of his throat a difficult temptation to avoid cutting. " I'm damn tired of that question."

Speedy tried to get some bit of vocal defence out for himself but Jason didn't let him when he pressed the blade down, wearing away the first layers of his skin until a red ribbon peeked out of the cut. Speedy pulled against Jason's hold on him, harder this time, but the knife ready to slit his arteries wide open restricted his movement. Jason was very pleased by how Speedy was beginning to realise he wasn't playing around.

_**" KKKKIIIILLLLLLLL!!!!"** _

_" Jason, wait! He knows that guy pretending to be you, you won't be able to figure this out without him!"_

**_" Oh, bird boy, such a buzz kill. Don't listen to him, laddie, cut this teensy archer into serpentine!"_ **

Jason paused to consider what the voices were telling him with so contradictively, and they both had a point he saw the logic behind. He lusted so badly for Speedy's blood warm on his hands, to see him wetly gasping through the thick oil-slick mess and slash across his throat, but killing him meant that everything he knew about the impostor died with him.

Jason really needed to think this through. He had to get to the bottom of who the fuck dared to pose as him and how they looked identical, and this halfwit ginger was so far, his only lead, other than the few scraps of knowledge he'd collected from the fake. From what he pieced together, the slut was acquaintances of sorts with Speedy, and if he wanted to find out everything Speedy knew, it was time for a different strategy, much as it repulsed him.

Jason blinked rapidly and shook his head as if to ward off a blinding fog in his head, then he glanced at the archer he'd trapped beneath himself. On purpose, he widened his gaze to look convincingly shocked, like he'd had no idea what he was doing.

" I - oh my god." He said when he saw the knife he had been brandishing to Speedy's larynx, about to cut him free from life. Jason got off him and backed away, his blade hitting the roof with a ringing clatter as he mumbled incoherent apologies to properly get home the point, that he wasn't aware of himself.

Now that he could, Speedy sat up and didn't waste a second on his back like his cocksleeve would have, ignoring the fallen arrows and the red line over his windpipe and rushing across the space between them.

" I - Speedy, I'm s - sorry, I - I don't know-" Jason stammered hopelessly, taking a drunken trip through proper punctuation while Speedy didn't say a thing about what just transpired before he had his arms around Jason, which he supposed, was comforting to some people while he himself could barely stomach it. But if there's one useful thing Bruce ever did teach him, its no compromise is too great for intel.

" Babe," Speedy said, right next to Jason's ear and the warm caress of his breath was something Jason certainly did not enjoy, it sent a line of shivers down the curve of his spine, but he pushed that aside.

**_" Aww, the pretty gingerbread boy is cuddling with you! Have you gone soft, Jasey? Did I not rough you up enough?"_ **

" S - sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't-"

" It's alright, Jason. It's fine. Let's go home, okay?" Ever calm, Speedy said and Jason was stunned by how gullible he truly was. He was making this easy.  _Sure, let's go home_.

* * *

 

_**" You know he's expecting you to put out in return for this, right?"** _

Jason stood in a white tiled bathroom that was surprisingly nice, the thick white towels hanging on a grated heating unit designed to warm them up and spacious shower with closing glass doors appearing way above Speedy's standards. Perhaps the slut liked pretty things, a majority of which his must have gotten from his sugar daddies. Beside the shower, a bath with space for two occupied half the room, droplets of water still sitting in the tub, reminiscent of its last use.

Speedy was sifting through a first aid kit by the sink, spine curved as he leaned over it and Jason tried not to think about how vulnerable he was like that while he waited.

_**" You know nothing in this world comes free, don't ya, pretty bird? Didn't Uncle J teach you that?"** _

" Alright, Jaybird," Speedy sighed when he finally finished his search, straightening his back with gauze, band-aids, tweezers, and other medical bit and pieces sticking out from between his fingers, scrunched together in his hands. With his arms positioned the way they were, Jason could see the messes of blackish purple bruises he'd left on the soft undersides and he had to bite his cheek not to give into the smile. Those marks looked good on the ginger.

" First off, let's get that glass out." Speedy said, putting his shit down, say for the tweezers.

" Hold still, okay?"

Jason replied with a stiff nod while Speedy cupped the side of his face with one hand and with the other, pinched the jagged shard sticking out of him in between the tweezers. Jason didn't like that touch, not at all, but he didn't want to add to Speedy's concern just yet by refusing it. Though he hadn't brought it up, Jason could tell Speedy was troubled by what transpired on the roof, it showed in his eyes and the way he carried himself all tense like.

They would probably talk about it once Jason was sufficiently patched up.

Speedy pulled the bloody glass out and ruined the stemming, a fresh thick leakage bursting out of the laceration and trickling down Jason's cheek, but he kept an unchanging expression, capable of fooling anyone that this was painless. He muttered thanks to the archer while he pressed his sleeve over the cut, the material instantly taking in the wet and getting heavy, clotted.

This was as far as he was going with Speedy's help, if he went any further the brand would be discovered and the gig over.

" C - can I clean this blood off myself?" Jason asked with his best weakling impression, eyes darting from the ground to Speedy then back again. Speedy regarded him with a questioning look but didn't ask about the request, nodding and humming affirmation with the step he took back.

" Go ahead, Jay."

Jason wanted to break his jaw for calling him 'Jay', that insufferable pet-name Bruce used to prefer to his actual name, but he let that one go because he had to. He'd make Speedy hurt for it the second he could afford to, though.

He glanced over at the redhead, spectating against the door frame with his bruised arms folded across the chest Jason near kicked in. He didn't look like it was intention to go anywhere.

" Could you - gimme a sec?" Jason inquired and Speedy nodded again, faster this time, like leaving had never occurred to him. He pushed himself away from the door frame he'd been leaning on, the fact that he understood very little of recent happenings on full display on his face. He looked so unsure it was adorable. Weren't blonds supposed to be the dumb ones?

" Sure..." Speedy said, eyeing him up once more with that uncertainty regarding him. " Gimme a shout when you're done, okay?"

He didn't wait for Jason's response before his back as turned and he pulled the door ajar after him. Jason sensed he waited for a moment before he padded off, the sounds of his footfalls swallowed up by the carpeted floor. Jason procrastinated until he was sure Speedy was gone before he removed his blood-soaked sleeve from over his cheek, examining the damage in the mirror above the sink. The lesion was deep but fortunately, the glass had gone in as one big piece, not crumbled up to leave fragments stuck to ragged walls of his muscle.

He picked an anti-septic wipe out of the equipment Speedy so graciously left with him, and began dabbing at the crusty red layer that began coming off in large flakes. He realised just what a precious brainchild it had been to do this without an audience, when the first few touches began to reveal the ugly scar beneath. Speedy would have seen it, no problem.

_**" Tiihiihii!"** _

Jason finished cleaning up and found himself hating the idea that the bitch had left a wound that would scar, because Jesus Christ, hadn't his face suffered enough? Hopefully, the mark wouldn't be too obvious and would fade with time. That smudge of faith didn't mean the fake wasn't paying for this.

_**" Hihihihihih."** _

Jason found a trio of butterfly stitches and used them to seal the wound shut, trying his very best to pull the partings of flesh as close together as possible, thus minimising the area the inevitable scar would take up. But, that still left the brand out in the open and for all to see. Most days, he didn't go out in public as anyone but the Knight, his helm hiding everything he wanted to remain unseen by not only the world, but himself also. Moments like this, staring into his own eyes in the mirror, he realised once more just how fucking hideous the Joker's brand was.

Jason located a graze plaster, the adhesive side easily sticking to hide _it._

_**" Hahahah!"** _

Taking a breath, Jason stepped back to examine himself over in the reflection. Without his suit on, he looked smaller. Not weak by any means, just smaller, less jacked, most noticeably around his midriff with no layers of kevlar to fill out the sunken in flanks. He really needed to make time to eat. Slade would scold the shit out of him for 'neglecting' his body's needs when in truth, Jason wasn't. Really. He simply didn't have time to consume much at all, not with all the hell he was planning on raining down on his lovely  _family_. At first, it hadn't been a problem, he made up for missed lunches with high protein foods but that didn't go on for long and now the side effects were beginning to be visible.

_**" Heheheh."** _

Jason moved his hair out his face and turned it to make sure no part of the J remained there to see. Looked like he was all good.

**_" Haaahahah!"_ **

" Would you shut the fuck up?" Jason finally snapped, unable to ignore the rotten cackling bouncing around in his skull any longer.

_**" Sorry, Jasey! This whole situation is just so funny!"** _

" Yeah? How do you figure that?"

**_" You're posing as your poser, kiddo. That's just the most hysterical thing, dontcha think?"_ **

Jason rolled his eyes with a scoff of annoyance, beginning to pack up everything Speedy left out for him back into the red and white first aid bag.

" What did you do to Robin?" He asked the Joker, but the question didn't come from a place of interest. Far from it. " He's been oddly quiet for a while."

_**" I sewed the kid's mouth shut. I got tired of him spoiling all my fun with his damn ideas."** _

" Huh." Jason remarked, still not particularly interested concerning the fate of his delusion. He wasn't real, after all, not Robin, not Joker, nor any of the other voices he heard from time to time, all his twisted imagination and he knew that without a shadow of a doubt. Even still, he swore he heard muffled teary whimpers somewhere far around the corners of his mind, perhaps a reminiscent phantom of his time in the asylum. He'd never forget the sounds of his own cries.

He finished putting everything away and pushed the door open, standing in place while he listened to Speedy in the kitchen, on the phone to someone.

* * *

 

 Roy sighed into the receiver and adjusted the phone on his shoulder, switching the coffee maker on as he did.

" I dunno what's wrong with him, Dick. He said he was fighting someone and needed backup." He explained, watching as drop by drop, the rich dark liquid began to sizzle and fill the glass jug beneath the dispenser. Damn, fresh coffee smelled like nothing in the world.

_" Who was he fighting?"_

" I don't know that either." Roy exhaled again. " When I got there, he'd gotten knocked around a bit but he was alone. He kept calling me Speedy an' then attacked me."

_" Did he hurt you?"_

Roy snapped a glance to the purple/black blotches on his biceps, forming a distasteful clash with the pine green shade of his tattoos. The imprints of boots formed thick lines like rungs of a ladder.

" No, not too bad. Just some bruises." Roy said when he returned to the conversation, wondering if it was wisest to leave out the close call with a Colombian necktie thing since while Dick was currently on a mission off earth with Kori, he might still be of some assistance regarding this matter.

" An' he was wearing this weird suit." Roy scrunched up his brow, recalling the details of the bizarre getup. " It looks kinda like the bat suit, but more camo and holsters. There's a white A on the chest, that sound like anything we've seen before?"

He heard the rustle of Dick scratching his head in thought. After a second or two of thinking time, he replied.

_" Nah, not that I can recall. How is he now?"_

Roy peered in the direction of the bathroom, where troublingly enough, he could hear Jason conversing with himself, though the exact details of what he was saying went muffled by the door. Maybe better that way.

" Uh, he's still pretty disoriented." He raked his hand through his hair as he reached for two mugs on the drying rack in the cupboard above the sink.

" I don't know what to do, Dick. He was completely fine before he went out on patrol tonight, and Bruce isn't even in the city, so he can't help."

_" He's not? Well, where is he?"_

" Saudia Arabia, I think. Jason mentioned a dispute with Talia or somethin'."

 _" Listen,"_  he heard Dick breathe a long breath out his nose and knew him well enough to know he was pinching the bridge of his nose hard enough to see stars.

_" I'll be back in a few days an' come talk with him then. You think you can manage 'til then? Don't let Jay go out on patrol and if you can avoid it, don't leave him unsupervised."_

" Copy that."

_" Alright. I gotta go, Roy. Kori needs me. Keep me posted?"_

" Yep. See ya soon."

 _" Be careful, Roy."_  Dick said as a send-off and his voice was painfully serious.  _" Whatever's wrong with Jason, I hope its nothing, just a fluke, but if not, then it could get dangerous for everyone. Don't forget what he's capable of."_

With that, Dick was gone, leaving nothing but the sound of the line ringing to fill the shell of Roy's ear. Listening to it, he lingered on what Dick's parting words were, a little longer than he could rest assured with. Sure, Jason had knocked him flat on his back and held a knife to his throat, but wasn't that just a one-off? God, he hoped so.

Those were too distressing things to have bobbing about his brain, Roy pushed them out of mind for now and realised just how long Jason had been in there. He was probably done by now. It wasn't unlike Jason to want his space when he was patching up wounds, in fact, that was more often than not the case and Roy suspected it was because his scars made him self-conscious. Specifically, his autopsy scar, that surgically precise Y stretching from shoulder to shoulder then down his abdomen. It wasn't ugly, it really wasn't, Roy kept telling him that whenever it came up, but Jason refused to believe him, even accusing him of 'lying to make him feel better' in one instance.

Roy headed out of the kitchen while the coffee brewed, but didn't make it further than the doorway before his eyes landed on Jason, standing stone still in the passageway. A wide white graze plaster sat over the cut on his face, although Roy had been sure he wouldn't need it, but he also knew not to question it.

Roy had first noticed it on the roof of the storage facility. Jason's eyes. There was something seriously wrong with them. The mixture of green and blue that had swirled like a vortex around his irises was reduced to concentrated blue, no trace of the Lazarus Pit's influence to be seen.  _That_ , he could be imagining and wouldn't be surprised if he were, but there was another presence that he felt every time Jason's gaze landed on him and it made him feel cold, almost  _hated_.

" Hey, babe," Roy said, slightly surprised to find him there, but again, Jason could be silent as a breeze when he so chose.  Jason shifted on his feet, as if something about Roy's presence made him uncomfortable.

" Hi..." He faintly responded, the word barely leaving his lips in a way that a was audible and Roy had to strain to make it out. It probably wasn't important, but Roy had never seen that shirt Jason was wearing and he usually eyed his partner up and down without missing a detail on the basis. The sleeves hit mid-forearm, the fabric looked pretty rough, turquoise, and the hems feathery, as if the garment was slowly unravelling with time.  

Roy tore his attention from that among the small details he was only noticing due to over-analysis, and locked eyes with Jason. Again, a dismissive part of him felt as if though the other despised him with every fibre of his being. But that couldn't be. He was fabricating it.

" You get everythin' patched up?" He inquired, struggling to look past that feeling no matter the reassurances he set for himself.  

" I told you, I didn't get hurt that bad." 

" Is that a yes or a no?" Roy pressed because sometimes, Jason needed it. Especially when it concerned his health. 

" It's a yes. I got myself fixed up. Happy?"  That came off as a tone of annoyance. Jason rarely reserved his patience for Roy, so this really was nothing new.

" Moderately." Roy reached to take his hand but Jason pulled back, just out of his reach like it was instinct before thought. Roy glanced at him but again, didn't pursue the issue. He didn't want to add to whatever the problem was by laying unwanted hands on him.

" C'mon. Let's go grab some coffee, yeah?" Roy motioned for him to follow without waiting for his reply, and lead the way into the kitchen. Jason lacked a smidge of certainty to his steps, as if the perimeter of their apartment was unfamiliar to him.

_You're just looking too deep into things, Roy._

_Yeah, maybe._

It wasn't a while before Roy was sitting opposite Jason at the kitchen table, holding a steaming mug of coffee that's porcelain threatened to burn his hands. Jason hadn't touched the mug Roy had given him and it still sat where he had slid it over, on the centre of the table, unmoved and fallen into disinterest. 

Jason sat with his back remarkably straight, not slouching as he did with the fall of every evening, just blatantly staring at Roy in a way that was nothing short of unsettling. It didn't really look like he spent any time in blinking. 

" Babe," Roy finally began, gentle, after he finished the first sip of the real black gold. " Can you tell me about what happened during and after the fight?" 

Jason exhaled and seemed to finally give into a tedious bit of humanity, slackening his posture ever so slightly and actually,  _blinking_.

" I don't really know. I was fighting someone I've never seen before, chased him around a bit, then he got the jump on me." He lowered his head into his hands, dark locks sticking pointed betwixt his fingers in what must have been the first time in twenty minutes where he looked away from Roy. 

" I'm not sure how long I was out for, but when I came to, he was gone and I was wearing that suit. Everything -" He looked up again. " - everything was fuzzy, Speedy."

" I haven't been Speedy for a long time, Jason." Roy explained and watched in ever-mounting concern as that seemed to puzzle Jason for entire seconds. 

" I go by Arsenal, nowadays." Roy continued. " But around friends and family, it's Roy. You remember that, right?"

Jason nodded. " Yeah. I - I think so."  Good Lord, he sounded so unsure and...  _fragile_? What the fuck happened to him during those fifteen minutes it took for Roy to find him? Dammit. He'd do anything to go back and be a few moments faster. Although, the short time period was reassuring in the sense that it meant nothing too  _bad_  could have been done, considering the fact that Jason's suit had been changed and that left room for all kinds of options Roy's mind would rather not wander to.

" Whoever or... _whatever_ it was," Jason went on, raising his face ever so slightly, but not so that he left the support of his hands. 

" I think they did something to me. But I - I can't remember-"

" It's okay, Jason." Roy said and extended his arm across the space separating them, leaning forward to lay his hand on Jason's shoulder. It was a difficult nugget of information to swallow that someone got the upper hand on Jason, something Roy had never witnessed first hand, but Jason also had zero reasons to lie to him about what transpired. Roy knew, to learn the whole chain of events, he needed to find Jason's attacker.

But that could wait some.

Right now, his partner needed him.

" We'll figure this out, okay, babe?"

Jason nodded his head again, this time with more energy behind it, yet it still left him deprived of something.

" I wanna figure this out. All of it."

* * *

 

He waited an hour past when he was sure Speed -  _Roy_ , was fast asleep, before he left. Got geared up, say for his broken helmet, and left. Whatever was going on here, this was still Gotham City, his home place. Navigation was a cinch.  Jason found his way back to the storage unit in a heartbeat and upon entering, discovered as he had expected, that the fake was still restrained to the iron roof beam where he'd left him, cuffs around his wrists and a zip tie around his neck, both contributing wholly to his captivity.

Jason felt his angry eyes bore into him when he knelt and began untying him, not at all afraid of what would happen when he did so, the paralytic he'd pumped the bitch full of would keep him immobile for a couple more hours. But that didn't prevent him from glaring daggers of pure hatred. Clotting gel stuffed up the gunshot wounds that wrecked his tibia, a temporary fix to keep him from bleeding out while he still had a use. Not purpose, just  _use_. Jason needed information.

" I got some questions for you, bitch." Jason told him, the jagged edge of his knife gliding with ease through the binds around Red Hood's wrists, and his arms fell heavily to the ground, but Jason didn't work so fast to dispose of the zip tie that still held him against the beam. Jason wanted him to suffocate a bit first and his whole body weight slanting forward should do exactly that. 

Sure enough, soon small coughs were choking up his throat, but nothing too satisfying, something to do with his vocal muscles being inept of movement. All he could do was sit there in sheer unease, prey to whatever Jason chose to do. He had the opportunity to get massively creative and he knew it. 

Crouching next to him, Jason grinned wickedly at his struggle for breath, points of his teeth flashing white under the skylight, allowing in a silvery beam, courtesy of the moon. There was an undeniably enjoyable element to watching someone unable to get their body to respond to their commands, when they were so powerless as he was now.

_**" Remember all the fun we used to have with paralytics, baby birdie? Hour and hours of fun, fun, fun!"** _

Smile fading rabbit-fast, Jason finished releasing Hood, catching him as he pretty much slumped into his arms. Shifting him to restore eye-contact, Jason rediscovered his devilish smirk as he stared down, deep in the throes of enjoying how very vulnerable his copycat was. He tried to utter something, but it came out as a dry whine in place of words. 

" Don't try talkin', sweetheart. You won't be able." Jason let him know upon rising and dropping him to ground level. He held onto Hood's injured wrist and began to drag him after, across the rough concrete floor without a care for the bruises and scrapes he was causing. 

" Now, before I grill you for everything you know about our shared predicament, how about we go somewhere more homely, hmm?" 

 

* * *

 

Things had changed around in Gotham, not massive changes, but small gradual ones that took a look out to notice. But one obvious factor was that Arkham asylum was still up and operating, or most of it, anyway. The abandoned wing was still exactly that, abandoned, where the only life were the rats and cockroaches that skittered across the tile floor, running away whenever a stray beam of light may make the mistake of wandering past the asylum's walls.

It felt as much like putting his head through a noose as it did coming home for Jason to return here, to this  _specific_  location, and every step of the way elicited a cacophony of cackling from the far nooks of his mind.

_**" HAHAHHAHAHAH-!"** _

Was that in his head? Or was it a sound so native to this place, that it never left?

Jason couldn't help but swallow, throat straining somewhat against the restrictive armoured collar of his suit, chest constricting the nearer he got to the cell with the tripod and wooden chair, caked in ancient blood and ropes, older still, hung like dead snakes from the sides of it. But that was... only in his head. Those things were no longer here.

Jason swung his arm back and hurled the fake into the cell, pleased by the thunk and subtle groan of annoyance at his ragdoll-like position. If he didn't want to get roughed up, he should have picked anyone else in the world to pose as, given how Jason sure as hell never got the silken-glove treatment.   

" Alright, slut," Jason began, crossing the space and beginning to tie Hood up again, realising the twitch in his fingers meant his motor functions were returning. Odd. That was hours faster than he'd anticipated, but he wasn't exactly compromised to over assumptions.

 

* * *

 

Jason figured it out  _fast_. Who his camo-bat identical was and what was going on here. He remembered before departing for Arabia, Bruce had advised the entire bat clan to be on the look-out for any anomalies in the time stream, which was a possible side effect of a league mission to a sister dimension gone awry. A one in a million chance, Bruce had said, that they would witness any disturbances and  _of course,_  Jason had stumbled upon that one in a million. The bright flash that had attracted him to the scene in the first place? After more information, he'd bet his right arm it was directly linked to a wormhole dumping something from another dimension into Gotham. And that something happened to be his blood thirsty twin.   

There was no other way Jason could think to explain what was happening. 

While he felt his arms being bound harshly behind his back, the other him grumbling to someone unseen, he knew he was in a really,  _really_  bad place. This him wasn't right in the head, and this was coming from Jason. He was unhinged, unstable, delusional, it appeared, and seemingly not really interested in solving what was going on here, as the only real gain he acquired - that Jason could see - was the wild spark of joy that exploded into a mad glitter of insanity in his eyes, whenever he inflicted pain on Jason. 

Jason remembered Ducra's lessons and focused every inch of himself into kick starting his body awake, out of the paralytic's influence. First, he concentrated on his fingers and got those to twitch, if only by milimeters. Next, he willed all his energy into his arms, practically feeling it run in torrents through his muscles and fill every small and microscopic nerve and nerve ending. 

_C'mon.... c'mon...._

Like a floodgate between his will and his ability to control his body burst with abandon, Jason gasped loudly and suddenly when all senses returned, wracked by a hard  _jerk_  that was beyond his control. As if startled by the sudden movement, other-Jason jumped a small bit, momentarily taken aback. When he regained himself, which was remarkably quickly, he rolled Jason around, onto his back, and grinned down at him.

" Well, well, well, slut," he showed his teeth with the smirk and derogatory term. " Seems you're not quite as useless as I thought. I ain't seen anyone but me beat a paralytic that fast."

" Th - that's because I am you, Jason." Jason panted with a wince. Sensation and feeling returning lightning-fast, his leg felt like it was gripped like livewire was ripping it apart where the bullets hit. 

" Don't flatter yourself, fake." 

" I'm not fake." Jason insisted past what was quickly building up to agony, but he needed to try reasoning with the other-him now, before he started acting on his insanity instincts more than he already had. That would ensure more pain coming Jason's way and fast.

" We're from different dimensions, okay? We're the same person, you're just in my reality. That's why we look the same and fight the same." He probably skimmed through that way too fast, but the chunks of lead grinding up against the broken bone in his leg didn't leave him feeling overly patient. 

Other-Jason seemed to consider this for a moment, consider it as the truth or utter bullshit? Who knew?  

" That's an interesting theory, slut." He eventually commented and out of apparently nowhere at all, his knife had appeared in his hand and he extended it towards Jason, gliding the blade over the length of his face.  

" It certainly explains some things. But let's see if it stands some fact checking, shall we?"


	4. Trust But Verify

" Parents' names?" The evil-him (or eviller?)  asked, barely finishing his sentence before his eagerness to thrust the crocodile clips into Jason's midriff took over. Jason knew himself well enough to know, he always took things through the extreme route, which they both have in common it appeared, since his doppelganger couldn't hook the cables to a normal car battery. Heavens to ashes, no. He had Jason wired up to his own frigging taser from his chest plate, converted for evil-Jason's purposes, and it had a lot more kick when the currents hit. 

Doused with water, soaked to the bone, conducted to his most transmissive, Jason twisted and writhed hard against his restraints, roped to this goddamn chair instead of kicking evil-him's face in, getting the life zapped outta him like a flipping fruit fly with the other's grin so prominent that Jason didn't need his eyes open to feel it. The bright whips of blue and white light cracked the air at contorted angles, making her scream and convulse. Or was that him who was doing that? Oh well, it stopped the second the electric did. 

Chest heaving, breaths coming heavy, Jason panted when he slumped back against the backrest, coils of smoke rising off the ropes around his wrists and ankles. He closed his eyes long enough to swallow what felt like a mouthful of gravel and slime taking up the space in the cavern of his mouth. Bile was clawing its way up his throat the faster he gulped it all down, repulsion swirling around the pit of his stomach. Damn, if the shocks and relentless questions weren't enough, there had to be the after-zap sickness, too. Wouldn't want him to get off too lightly, after all.

Jason darted his tongue along the flesh of his lower lip before fluttering his eyelashes apart, far from pleased to see his doppelganger looming over, crocodile clips ready in hand with their sharp-toothed sprung mouths opening and closing in anticipation to bite. 

" Parents'  _names_?" Evil-Jason pressed, more insistently, but the coy smile lingering on his features was hopeful for disobedience. Disobedience meant punishment. 

" How 'bout you give me a fucking second to answer before -  _argh_ -!" _Zap!_ The grey bodysuit was getting black and crispy in the spots the charged up metal was jabbing him, and this time, Evil-Jason kept them on him far longer than any of his other goes, then pulled them back the second Jason thought he might black out.  Black fingers of thick mist parted gradually from over his vision to a grin with teeth like a wolf's. 

" Do I gotta ask again, slut? Or are you gonna-"

" Willis an' Shei - Catherine Todd." Jason blurted out before he could straddle his tongue and not give this asshole a thing, not that it really mattered if he did or not. They were the same person when it came to the basic details. Little of what he said should be news.

" Hm." Evil-Jason cocked his head, narrowing his eyes in thought, the twitch in his facial muscles pulling the corner of his J-scar higher up his face until it looked like a  musical note rising up the staves.

" Those were their names, weren't they? Not that it matters. The bodies weren't recognisable after Maroni was through." As if there was far more to this tale that he wasn't going to share, Evil-him planted one of his hands on the wall above Jason's head and leaned in, the stench of smoke and used gunpowder evaporating into the air around him. He was so close, his smile never once failing him, but Jason had been in a similar position too many times to not recognise their close proximity was a scare tactic. Evil-him was trying to intimidate. 

Might work if he didn't see the same face in the mirror every morning.

" So do you believe me?" Jason finally asked, staring into his own eyes. Well, his without the swirls of green. Guess he'd never really realised how very blue his eye colour was before the Pit. That was one indicator that their life story was only similar up until their early Robin years, then like branches of a tree, they grew in very different directions.

" Almost." Evil-Jason responded, perhaps realising his scheme wasn't working when he took a step back to add to the  _generous_  two feet of space between them.

" One last question," he began and this time, his smirk had left him. "Joker's  _favourite_  toy?"

Jason's throat bobbed without his say-so, a reflex he couldn't help. " Crowbar." He said without doubt or waver. He saw by evil-him's small nod that this fact rang true for both of them. 

" Yep. It's the damn crowbar." He muttered under his breath, surprising Jason because he turned his back and headed out of the jail cell, quick to vanish from sight lock as he rounded the corner out the door. 

Jason nipped at his lower lip, looking in the direction he had gone. Where did he go? It didn't matter, what mattered was how _long_. This was the first opportunity at his fingertips and Jason had been trained better than to waste it. Bruce would expect better.  

Charred then weakened by the bolts of electricity, the ropes, thick though they were, were no fearsome adversary. On his good wrist and a grunt through his teeth, Jason began pulling against them, tendons straining clear to see through the pale skin of his arm with the effort. The fibres of the rope were frail, one by one snapping as the fried knot loosened. 

" Guess they don't make nylon like they used to." Jason mused to himself, doing away with the restrain enough to have some wiggle room to slide his hand free. All he needed was one free and he could untie the rest of himself, hopefully get outta here because he sure as hell couldn't jump evil-Jason, not with a bum leg and barely usable wrist. Sure, maybe he could reason with the guy, but he also knew reasoning with himself was next to impossible.   
          
Almost slipped into freedom, Jason rapidly returned to the state he'd been in when evil-him's footfalls tap, tap, tapped back towards him, followed closely after by a light  _scraaaape_ , of aluminium across the cracked concrete flooring. In his head, he cursed his slowness and numbed out senses until he laid eyes upon evil-Jason again, rounding the corner with unhindered steps and dragging a metal chair behind him.   Jason realised he was still using his left arm for the most part, and he was beginning to suspect it was an old injury and not lack of precise motor skills in both appendages.   

His mind immediately made a note of that, looking at the advantages with more care than what the backstory may be.

Evil-Jason dragged the chair until there was a meter parting them, set it down, and sat down on the edge of it, back curved as he rested his arms on his knees, inlacing his hands in their fingerless gloves. He looked at Jason and Jason looked back, making sure he kept their sights locked instead of openly gaping at the J on his cheek. He knew from personal experience that people often didn't appreciate their scars being stared at.

" Guess I gotta believe you," Evil-him finally said with a small exhale through his nose and his sights darted aside briefly, to the floor and Jason didn't think he was looking at anything in particular. Despite finally being on the same page, Evil-Jason made no move to untie him and Jason knew full well, he wasn't out of the wilderness just yet with this guy. He had to keep reminding himself that this man's - him or not - sanity was not nearly intact and that made him a world more dangerous than what he would be just because of his identity.

" A Justice League mission to another dimension is what screwed up the timeline and brought you here." Jason explained. " I was informed wormholes may be a temporary side effect. One must have opened up right next to you and sucked you in."

Evil-Jason arched his brows, bemused, feigned surprise skittering past his features. 

" Sounds like something we'd do, huh?"

" Yes. Undoubtedly." Jason agreed, still cripplingly aware that he couldn't react in any way separate to a punching bag if the other chose to do something. Talking beat electro-shocks 100%, but that was no olive branch extended.

" He didn't-" Evil-Jason waved an uncoordinated hand in motion to his own face. " He didn't brand you."

Jason had already guessed the damn self-proclaimed clown prince of crime had done that announcement of ownership to his identical, therefore didn't need to wonder who 'he' was. He was about to add a response when evil-him beat him to the punch.

" Did Joker even capture you?" He asked and it didn't go by unseen that he was definitely hoping they had that much in common.

" Yes, he did." Jason said with a subtle nod. " But I'm guessing that ended differently for us. I got blown up then resurrected via Lazarus Pit a while later. You?" By their mannerism, this sounded like they were making bloody small talk and not talking about the most traumatic incidents of their lives.

" My clown based experiences are just different to yours, nothing more." Evil-Jason leaned back against his seat, folding his arms across his chest and the white A of his suit, something about him changing position made Jason tense.

" Why did you become Red Hood?" He asked and it was no secret whose moniker that used to be. Who didn't know Joker used to sport a red head covering of his own? Jason knew the other was thinking he was glorifying that damn pasty-faced freak, when nothing could be further from the truth.

" Become the thing you fear the most, right?" Jason told him, trying hard to concentrate on wording he himself would find convincing.  

" I'm not afraid of Joker." Other-him responded, his eyes narrowing a fraction with an expression like it was the most pathetic thing to do if you harboured a subconscious fear of your childhood murderer. Jason understood that, though, he still thought it was pathetic of him but he couldn't for the second life of him, help it.

" Since you're obviously not Hood," Jason jerked his chin to gesture to the metal plated gear he was wearing, crafted for a world war. " What name do you go by?"

He hesitated a moment, as if discussing the man and the armour as separate wasn't something he liked to do. It was pretty obvious, he would rather be the gunslinging madman than Jason Todd. Not a mentality he had never related to. It's not difficult to get addicted to invincibility. 

" Arkham Knight, a cute Harley Quinn inspired nickname." He eventually confessed and Jason didn't provoke him by questioning how wearing a pet name given by  _her_  was any better than how he got his mantle. Poke Jason the wrong way, no matter which Jason he was, and he would snap his teeth around your neck and leave with your head held by the emptied-out eye sockets. 

" I see. Well, Arkham, a pleasure to meet you. Shame about the circumstances, however." He raised his bound hands what little he could, hoping Arkham got the hint to fucking untie him and although the clue as to what he wanted wasn't one he missed, he also didn't act on it. He just stared, uncaring of the ropes wearing at Jason's wrists. 

* * *

 

 _Arkham?_  Pft. Cute. Clearly Hood thought giving him a nickname was the fastest way to his heart, but newsflash, there was nothing to get to in his hollow chest.  

_**" Do you realise the opportunity you have here, Jasey? It's a real tomato! You can - drum roll - kill yourself but not die!"** _

Jason made no move to release his counterpart since there was absolutely no reason to do so. He had never, ever, trusted anyone, especially himself and truth be told, no part of him didn't expect a knife in his back the second he turned it. Why then, would Hood have been trying to get free in that minute when he was gone for? The ropes on one arm were looser and shifted, easy to notice even without looking properly. No. Neither of them trusted the other and chatter aside, that was no untold secret. 

_**" Or..... cut his face off and wear it! Or maybe you should eat him? Trust me, cannibalising yourself can be fun! Not that I ever have, despite what a snack I am."** _

" Is your Bruce still alive?" Jason asked and by the slight rise of the other's brow, he didn't need confirmation. Of course, Hood's version of their mentor still lived and breathed. He seemed to have everything better. No brand, no Joker in his head, friends, no extended stay in Arkham. 

" Yours isn't?"  He pried, like he couldn't imagine a world without Batman. That wasn't Gotham's biggest problem. It was Dick Grayson, that son-of-a-bitch, as Batman.

" No." Jason shook his head, bangs swaying in tune to the movement. " He died a while ago. Blown up in his own manor. Tragic, right?" 

Hood didn't humour him by agreeing how tear-inducing that really wasn't, since it was inevitable that the old man would outrun his luck one day and end up a stain on the wall. Fun fact, his death was something Dick and the rest held Jason 100% accountable for.

" What about the rest of our family? Dick, Tim, Alfred? They're still there, right?"

Jason pulled a face with the first two names, scrunching up his features like a paper ball at the repulsion of remembering the existence of the former and current Robins. 

" Those two bastards can go fuck each other." He bit, pretty much backhanding Hood across the face with the whiplash anger behind his words.  

" That's a bit harsh." Hood said. " They're bitchy, sure, you they're your brothers, Jason."

**_" Ooooh, Jason, it looks like Little Red here is bosom besties with his brosies. Another thing he's got and you don't! Doesn't that make you seethe on the inside? Even a bit? You've been outdone by yourself, boyo! A new record!"_ **

" Maybe they're your brothers," Jason found himself saying low enough to be mistaken for a growl. " But they sure as hell  _aren't_  mine. They're not family. They're not friends. They've made it clear they're only obstacles." With this coming up, he couldn't help it that his memories uprooted those things Dick had told him just last night.

_" You're not one of us Jason. Not after everything you've done."_

_" Mistake number one was wasting the Robin symbol on you, mistake number two was mourning your 'death'."_

If Hood truly thought Dick was a man who could be trusted with a cent, that he could be considered family, then Jason was not the delusional one here. Not by a long shot. 

" Sounds like you got a pretty fucked up version of my peeps then, don't it?" 

" Sounds like it." Jason muttered, fingers tightening around his arms and digging worries into his skin. He wasn't jealous by what he already knew about his doppelganger and this dimension. Or, maybe he was a bit but for the most part, it majorly sucked to imagine that if Bruce had ever given a similar line to Hood,

_" Let me help you."_

Then he'd most likely gotten the opportunity to see that promise gone through. He seemed to have it good, or as well as Jason Todd could have it. He had Bruce, alive, Dick didn't hate him and label him as 'mistake number one', Tim didn't view him as the prime example of what not to do, and he even had that dumb ginger, Roy, who genuinely seemed to care about him. Jason wasn't gay or bi or whatever Hood identified as, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't a little green-eyed because of what was between his identical and the archer, even if he found them both insufferable. 

Maybe not dying in Arkham was where Jason went wrong and Hood, in fact, had the right idea all along. Death is sweeter than life.  

" If you'll let me go," Hood's irritating voice - ironically the same as his own - broke through the jumble of thoughts and drew his attention. 

" We can figure out a way to get you back to your dimension."  

That was like a bat-slap and Jason, at first, didn't know why it felt like that. Since finding out about what was going on here, it honest to god, had not once been a concern of his to get back to his hell-ridden home. Gotham was Gotham no matter what plain of existence you dwelled on, only this Gotham seemed a tinge less cruel than his. A little warmer from what he had heard. But, he wasn't quite sure if that was the case just yet. Jason needed to look into it a bit more.

**_" You let the kid go, and that's it. Finito. Bid adieu to any plans you had with this place. He'll go straight to daddy bats and get every bone in your body busted. Or will Hickery Dickery Doc be the one who turns you into paste?"_ **

" Yeah...  _no_. Not just yet, Hoodie." Jason said, rising, knocking the chair off its feet as he did. The clatter as it cracked against the floor was a struggle in on its own not to flinch because of, but he stayed stone cold as he stared down at Hood, who looked suddenly worried if he wasn't before and good for him, because Jason sure as fuck wasn't here as a missionary. 

" I wanna look around this place a bit more before I decide what I wanna do."  

"  _What_? No, you can't, Arkham!" Hood jerked against his ropes when Jason leaned down to yank them tighter, and he did that hard enough to diminish the measly progress he'd made trying to free himself.  He was gonna have to reinforce these before he left.

" The longer there are two of us in this dimension, the more it's gonna screw things up for everyone."  Hood persisted and for that, Jason was tempted to kick him in the face, since it sure as hell sounded like he thought Jason had no idea how dimensions and timelines worked. Of course, he knew his presence here could cause a paradox, but he also didn't particularly care. He was used to his existence screwing everything up and so should the whole world by now.

_**" In and out, Jason, in and out. It'll all go smooth as a fresh jar of Skippy!"** _

" Then I'll be real quick, don't you worry, Hood." Jason let him know and was well aware reassuring was the last thing he was, but that was just one in many flaws he could never finish listing. He dug around in the compartments of his belt while they spoke.

" Look, Jason, someone's gonna notice you aren't me pretty fast," Hood continued, as if anything coming out his mouth was actually valid. Maybe some of it was, but it was also uninteresting. 

" Then you're gonna get hurt. You don't want that, I don't want that."

_**" Pft! Hurt you? You're the Arkham Knight, kid, not some weakling Robin no mo'!"** _

" Apparently, you don't remember how good I am at turning people into mush." Jason said while his quick search came up with results, his fingers feeling their way around the small glass phial of a syringe every bat - disgraced or not - knew to carry. 

" I'm pretty sure I'll be fine. And like you said, Bruce ain't in town to call me out." He popped the cap of the syringe off in between his teeth, and approached Hood with it. Instantly recognising what it was, Hood pulled back as far as his position would let him but that didn't get him anywhere out of harm's way. 

" You don't know what you're doing, Arkham." He told Jason when he snatched Hood's face in his hand roughly, his thumb digging into the meat of his cheek deep enough to make out the sharp points of his teeth clean through.

" Contrary to what most believe," He said while he shoved the syringe point into Hood's neck, pushing down on the plunger and releasing the anaesthetic into his double's veins.  A snowball's chance in hell that he was leaving himself awake and capable of escape while he was out. 

" I am 100% aware of my actions. I ain't criminally insane, just insane." Jason took a step back from him and watched how the lightning-fast acting drug was already making him look drowsy. Still, he glared death and murder.

" You stay here 'til I get back. I gotta go, since your gingersnap is probably gonna start wondering where his precious  _babe_  is."  With that, the final straw as it were, Hood jerked hard, his binds creaking under the relentless strain and  _goddamn_ , did he look pissed.

" Don't you dare fucking hurt him!" Hood yelled at Jason, like he was scary or some shit when he was mad. His attempts to scare were laughable, especially with his consciousness as fleeting as the grains of sand in an hourglass, and Jason found himself to be grinning again. 

**_" Ooo! Baby's ticked off! Better not kick his bae across a roof and hold a knife to his throat, eh, pretty bird?"_ **

" Can't promise you that, I'm afraid, Hood. Can't promise that at all." 

* * *

 

Jason never came to bed last night. He'd said he was gonna, later, and Roy had stayed awake as long as he could force himself to, waiting up, but he shut his eyes for one goddamn minute and the next thing he knew, sunlight was streaming in through the shutters and the space beside him was desolate. The sheets were crisp and completely free of wrinkles, the pillows as straight as a Christian who'd never broken a single of God's commandments, all indicators that Jason not only currently wasn't here, but also hadn't for the whole night.

It was like an adrenaline shot that got Roy up at possibly the fastest rate of his life, and halfway through pulling a tank top over his head when he stepped through the bedroom door, having a mini heart attack while he headed for his suit and weapons. With Jason's beyond bizarre behaviour last night, he couldn't find a mental state where he wasn't worrying over his disappearance. 

Roy was just about to ring Oracle and in a panic, breathlessly stammer-ask her to locate Jason with her masterful computer skills, when he noticed the balcony doors were open, curtains billowing and letting in a cool early winter's breath. Tentative, he cautiously padded out there to find Jason leaning against the rail, back turned, staring at Gotham. There was absolutely no chance he didn't hear it when Roy joined him, but he didn't react and kept surveying the city. 

Roy glanced at him, not sure what to think, and realised there was a new light in his eyes. Not the kind that brightened them up or lessened the emotionless nature of them, but a spark of opportunity, and Roy for one, had no idea what could be going through his mind.

" 'Morning, babe." Roy said and when he finally spoke, his voice sounded too loud next to the relentless silence. 

" Hey." Jason murmured in response, a little less hesitant and unsure than he was yesterday, and Roy took it was a good sign. It relieved him to see. Maybe things weren't as bad as he thought they were? Albeit, Jason clearly wasn't himself even now, still off by ten miles, the unknown details of the night before hindering his recovery.

" You didn't come to bed last night." 

" I wasn't tired." Jason confessed, turning away from eyeing the glass skyscrapers and apartment blocks and facing Roy, but remained leaning on the rail while his hands rested lightly on it. 

" I was thinking."

"'bout what?" Roy inquired, raising a carroty brow. It was normal for Jason to spend long hours contemplating life and his decisions concerning it, but he usually did so in bed, where Roy could badger him until he consented to sex just to shut him up. Not that he would have done so yesterday. 

" The guy who jumped me." He said and by the way he lowered his gaze, it was clear he was ashamed by the notion of losing a fight. Roy didn't like that out-of-place vibe coming off him and extended a hand, gently sweeping a lock of dark hair from Jason's face and tucking it behind his ear.

" Don't worry about that. We'll get him." Roy assured him and that was a promise he had already made himself. No chance he was letting Jason's mystery assailant go free without at least learning who he was and what the hell he had done to his partner.

Jason hummed in unconvinced agreement with a few small nods of his head, his grip tightening around the handrail. 

" There must've been footage of what happened?" 

" Yeah, there was. I went over everything the street an' traffic cams picked up from last night, but the footage was scrubbed clean for the duration you were engaged in that fight for. Whoever did this, he doesn't wanna get discovered." 

" No." Jason said with more conviction than anything previous. " No, he doesn't."   

Roy was of a like mind with him there and detected quick, that this wasn't something Jason was comfortable discussing more than they already had. Change of topic then, and Roy would do more sleuthing on his own as the day progressed. He had to remember the rules Dick set for him and was pretty sure not over-stressing Jason applied to them. 

Lowering his hand from where it remained hovering by Jason's face to touch his arm, chilled and riddled with goosebumps, Roy got cold himself just by the contact.

"  _Jesus_ , Jay," he frowned, " you're freezin'." He raised his eyes to meet Jason's and couldn't be certain, but it looked a lot like Jason was asking himself why Roy cared about whether or not he was cold. He was well versed in the fact that Jason despised the cold, perhaps almost as much as he despised Joker and crowbars. He hated to see his soulmate in discomfort when he could do so much about it to help.

"How about we take this inside? Maybe talk more over some breakfast? I promise I won't burn the house down."

For the first time since discovering him so disoriented last night, Jason smiled at him. Not a sunny smile or anything of the sort, but Roy would take whatever he got. Jason pushed himself away from the railing and headed after Roy, closing the twin glass doors behind him.

" If you don't mind, I'll do the cooking." Jason said and it was insistent, not to mention something Roy could sure as hell get behind. He was never much a chef while Jason had been privy to Alfred's secret recipes, which needless to say, was a very,  _very_  attractive quality, especially with an empty stomach.

Smiling at him, Roy gave a deep, dramatic sigh. " If you insist, Jaybird. Don't see how I can talk you out of it."

* * *

 

" Oracle confirmed it, so did IAFIS," Tim said, grim as he looked at the back turned to him, black cape stretched over the shoulders and cascading to the ground like a waterfall of ink. The bright glow glaring blindingly from the various monitors and screens were turning him into nothing more than a silhouette, but when was he anything but a shadowy figure?

" Jason's not on earth. Well, not our earth, anyway." 

Dick's lips were drawn taut, into a thin line when he looked over his shoulder at the boy, face dark even without the cowl drawn over his head. A distractingly white butterfly stitch sat on the bridge of his nose, reminiscent of the blow that maniac ex-Robin had struck before he vanished into the dark of night, too quick for capture. 

" Then where the hell is he?"

" Our devices picked up anomalies of an unknown origin in the time stream. Wormholes: around eight opened up in Gotham last night, he could have gone into any one of them."   

" Dammit. He could be anywhere. Can we track him?" 

Tim bit his lip, thinking. " Possibly. I'll see what I can do."

" Good." Dick turned back to the monitors, hands clasped behind his back as he watched the ghostly quiet city unfolding in its nighttime activities through the feed of numerous cameras. It was as if every villain had fallen dead silent for tonight, but that couldn't draw his attention from how paramount it was to locate the Knight and bring. Him. Down.

Once Robin, an eternity ago it felt, Jason was now dangerous, perhaps the most dangerous member left alive in the rogues' gallery, and he needed to be incarcerated as soon as they got their hands on him. They'd been after him ever since Bruce died, given how Jason was an accessory to that murder and there was no one left to punish but him. And, Dick had decided, someone was going to bleed and bleed heavily for what happened. A bat doesn't stab a bat in the back without getting a knife in the gut. 

No matter the dimension he'd fled to, Jason wasn't far enough to be out of Dick's range of fire.

He never would be. If Jason insisted on acting like an animal, he'd get hunted down like an animal because, one way or another, he was going to be dragged back here by whatever pieces Dick ended up leaving attached to his body, which, depending on the extent of the struggle he was undoubtedly going to put up, may not be a lot.

" Wherever he is, Jason will tear that world to the ground. We need to tear him apart first." Dick finally said and didn't need to clarify to Tim, that that was a promise when he had made the same one. 

* * *

 

So there he'd been, peacefully minding his own business, elbow deep in the warm wet guts of someone he didn't know, when a bright blue and white flash opened up the sky above him, and the next thing Victor Zsasz knew, he was in Gotham. But, he quickly realised, it wasn't his Gotham. Not even close. This place was less tainted and that was clear just by the taste in the air. Less copper, less blood, not nearly enough wailing sirens and screams to make it feel like home.

Zsasz wandered the dingy back alleyways and places that were a death sentence come night, trailing his blood and scar covered hand along the wall, leaving a red trail behind to mark the way he had come. He was looking for his next victim, looking for someone to leave unrecognisable to the family, when he heard the unmistakable sounds of combat, transpiring ahead of him.

At first, the plan was to chop up both parties involved, until he noticed these were not druggies battling for turf who'd engaged in a fist fight. No matter how much Zsasz wanted to, he knew he couldn't best the Arkham Knight without at least an army and sixty tonnes of TNT - neither of which he had handy - and his opponent wasn't bad either. He looked like he might be part of the Red Hood gang with his dark red helmet and love of guns.

 _Strange_ , Zsasz frowned, behind the giant green dumpster that concealed him from them. He'd thought the Hoods had disbanded. Had there been a get-together party he'd not been invited to? But then again, why would he get a welcoming card when he wasn't and had never been a member?

He continued on watching and when the Knight chased the Hood up the fire escape, Zsasz followed out of sheer curiosity as to who would take the win. His money was on Joker's rabid lap dog, since it already looked like he had the advantage with the other bleeding a delicious amount. He stopped to sample some of the spilled redness and by god, was it tasty! Yum, yum! Just like momma used to make.

The Knight took the Hood down with ease that Zsasz was sure, would have made Deathstroke himself nod with pride and approval he would never vocalise. But that wasn't what he found interesting or even mildly surprising because the highlight was undoubtedly the moment when the masks came off by force and underneath, they were the same person! The exact same kid, identical right down to the partings in their hair. 

From his hiding place, Zsasz got a first-hand view as to the Knight's confusion and his reactions. He kicked his double out of it and left for some time, tying him up as if to deliberately tempt Zsasz. Truth be told, he almost gave in to the all-consuming urge to run his knife through that one time and time again while he was so completely vulnerable, but he resisted and it turned out to be worth it when the Knight returned a couple hours later and dragged his identical off to somewhere unknown.

Again, curiosity got the better of him and he went right after, restricting himself to the distance that meant he wouldn't be spotted, despite the butterflies of anticipation squirming up a storm in his belly. He must have rubbed his hands together the whole journey with how much he lusted for blood. He was  _thirsty_  for it.

The Knight returned to the place of his namesake, the old asylum, which is when Zsasz knew for sure, that this was going to get interesting. 

Maybe he'd stick around to see what happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're very observant, then you've probably already picked up on this, but notice the only times AK is well and truly bat shit crazy is when Joker is mouthing off in his head, and it's kind of a indicator to the influence the clown still has over him. Also, see how Joker's also foreshadowing most things AK does with his suggestions and little quips? Even in death, Mister J's got his claws deep in that one's brain.


	5. Ghosts

It was difficult to get rid of the ginger limpet when he clung to Jason's side with the insistence of a parasitic leech and he couldn't help but marvel at the fact his double tolerated it on a daily basis. Jason could tell the Big Brother level of surveillance came from the fact that Roy sensed he wasn't himself. Or more accurately, he wasn't Roy's version of himself, but he was trying to be as convincing as he could. Might as well put up a believable front until he figured out where to go from here, mightened he? 

But like every oppressive security system intended to keep him in check, Jason found ways around to elude. This time, in the form of saying he needed a shower and locking himself in the bathroom with the water running. The loud drizzling against the tiled floor drowned out the creak of rusty hinges when he opened the window and just like that, was gone. 

He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but Hood's version of their home city was literally and metaphorically a different world. The air felt less heavy,  _purer_  maybe? The colossal weight that dragged everyone's gaze to the ground was lifted here and despite Jason being fairly sure nightfall meant its return,  he could bask in the unfamiliar feeling for as long as it graced him.

Glory of that aside, Jason liked to believe he had no destination in mind and that he was simply aimlessly exploring as per his intentions, but all be damned if his feet didn't instinctively lead him to Wayne Manor.

_**" Back for nostalgic reasons, baby bird? You're going soft...."** _

Coming here, this hadn't seemed like a good idea a single time, but now.... Now, staring up at the gilded arched gates surrounding the perimeter, it felt like a damn death sentence. The building, silence standing against its wood and stone, its wide Gothic windows and almost fairytale-like towers... they were bigger than they'd ever been, bigger than when he was a kid, escorted here by an old butler and a man he didn't know. It hadn't felt like home then and it sure as hell didn't feel like it now. 

The passing of time really didn't change shit.

 ** _" Don't think running back to daddy is gonna save you, pumpkin."_**  A sharp, hot breath caught the back of his neck and velvet byzantium purple gloves crept with a patient pace up his back and onto his shoulders, quickly tensed into an unwavering line. The hands began moving closer together until they formed an O around his throat. They squeezed lightly, playfully, the little bit of pressure going a long way, far enough to make Jason's breathing intensify and his stance go rigid. Despite the presence, his shadow, cast across the paved driveway, was the lonely contour of darkness without a second belonging to the speaker. 

 _ **" ...Don't forget who left you all alone in that asylum."**_  The voice was closer this time, the figure's neck craned to whisper next to his ear, so close that Jason could distinguish the subtle pops when his tongue met the salivated roof of his mouth. 

 **_".... All alone with_ ** _**me** _ **_."_ **

The build-up of fear in his gut, near-primal in its grotesqueness, kicked and squirmed and fought until he thought he would collapse from the all-consuming desire to  _run_. Run away from here fast and live to regret his decision.

But just like that, at the silent snap of invisible fingers, Jason gasped aloud, like he'd been underwater and resurfaced back to being the sole person faced by the intimidating structure of the Wayne family home. Blinking more times than necessary, he groaned and rested his hands on his knees, spine curved the likes of which could only be explained by a punch to the gut. Steadying himself as best he could, Jason found it a struggle not to crumble down from the sharp phantom pains flaring up in every part of his body, everywhere the asylum saw cut open or bruised to brokenness.    

" Pull it together, Jason." He ordered himself and tried to sound unafraid, commanding as the militia officer Slade Wilson had trained, and he must've hit his goal a mile off because he could have been mistaken for a wounded pup. 

" Jason?"  Cut British accent, gravel crunched and shifted with every step Jason was approached with and he hardly cared to slap away the hand that came to rest on his back. The touch was gentle but not in a sense that would lead one into false beliefs, there was no room for disobedience and just by Alfred's no-nonsense aura, that was clear.

" Master Jason, are you quite alright?" Alfred asked, the concern in his voice mounting a notch higher when Jason didn't initially respond. However, seconds later, he straightened himself, in his full height a good foot and a half taller than pretty much the only person he'd never hated. Jason met his eyes, pale grey, almost faded silver, but still grappled to find his words. 

He hadn't seen Alfred in forever but he hadn't changed a bit, as if barely a day had gone by since Robin ran through the smoke of the burning orphanage, after Joker. Jason barely knew what to say when he'd not expected to lurk around an abandoned property when he came here, but he hadn't prepared to see anyone. He hadn't scripted any lines or rehearsed reactions.

"  _Jason_?" Alfred pressed when Jason could only stare at him with eyes of exhaustion. Note to self, he should seriously consider getting some sleep soon, it had been four days since his last power nap and the side effects were beginning to shine through the exterior.

" Uh, hey, Alf." Jason awkwardly managed to say when he broke out of the near-hypnotic trance that had held him. 

Alfred eyed him up and down, taking into count the bruises and the cuts. The weightless presence of the concealing graze plaster still covered one-fourth of Jason's face, but he could swear Alfred was staring right through it and at his scar.  It was his most prominent feature, the one people would rather gawk at in conversation instead of making eye contact, but he had to keep reminding himself that Alfred wasn't like that. Even without the disguise, he wouldn't gape at it.

Perhaps it was obvious, or maybe Alfred's empathic powers kicked in, because he homed in on Jason's mental dishevelment faster than Batman could bitch-slap an ex-Robin. He reached out to take Jason's arm as if he were a child in need of guidance. 

" Why don't we go in and continue discussing this over a spot of tea?"

 

* * *

 

" I do say, Master Jason, I've grown eager for company in the tick since your last visit." 

Calm and clarity having invaded the panic's space somewhat, Jason held in his scepticism that he had ever been 'eager' when Alfred said that, setting the silver tray down between them on the small kitchen table. There were the standard things there, a teapot, sugar cubes, a small jug of milk, and a couple British biscuits. Hobnobs, maybe. 

" How have you been?" Alfred asked him as he sat down, slowly, very gingerly, a rare insight into how his years were catching up with him. It worried Jason to see him, so fragile but still standing the pillar of strength in a family consisting of emotional instability and sheer neediness. 

" You've gotten awfully thin." He remarked and Jason didn't say anything due to his vocabulary drying up like a drop of water in the desert. He didn't know how to reply, not over the something that kept screaming that he had no right to be here. He didn't. This wasn't his Alfred, not his Wayne Manor, not even his own damn world.

But he  _wanted_  to be here. Why? He didn't yet know.

Eventually, Jason got his tongue out of its paralytic state. " Uhm, yeah, sí. Haven't had a lotta time to eat lately." 

Alfred raised a disapproving brow and Jason knew he fucked up  _bad_ , but Alfred didn't scold him on that, his disapprobation drove the point all the way home and made Jason feel particularly culpable. He mumbled an apology under his breath.  

" You must take better care of yourself." Alfred told him and instead of a suggestion, that was a full-blown order Jason was terrified to disobey. He keenly eyed the plain wooden table top when the butler went on.

" How can Mr Harper rely on you in combat, if you're at risk of passing out from malnourishment? " 

" I've got it under control, Alf. It's not a problem." Jason tried assuring him and knew that the old guy didn't care what he said, until he had proof to back it up with. But he made no further comment regarding the issue. 

While Alfred poured hot water into two cups, Jason watched him and how calm he was about everything he did. Jason had missed spending time in the Englishman's serene presence, so overpowering it muffled the Joker's screech of a cackle that turned his head into a pinball machine. 

_**" Baby bird! Hey! I'm talking to you! Don't ignore your clown daddy!"** _

But just when he'd made the latter assumption, that rotten voice came back and pounded on the door to his mind with both fists. And he sounded exasperated. Jason wrapped his hand around a clump of hair and tugged, tugged, tugged, closing his eyes against it and hoping and praying the damn clown would shut the fuck up for two seconds and let him have this one moment with Alfred. 

" Here you are, Jason." Alfred said, extending a cup that's ringed bottom touched down on the table with a soft clink. Jason smiled a weary thanks, releasing his locks from his fist. He didn't want to worry Alfred by letting himself get fucked around with by his goddamned delusions. 

Alfred took a sip of his own tea, watching Jason from over the rim of his china cup like he was studying a book.  

" Mr Harper mentioned you were having some memory issues."  Ah, there  _it_  was. Jason had suspected Alfred knew something about Roy's concerns and he didn't know if he should be pissed off at the ginger for going behind his back to Hood's family, or allow the drop of warmth into him because  _someone_  cared enough.

_**" It's not you Roy-toy cares about, though, baby bird. It's his partner he's in this for. Not you. You're not his Jason. You've got his Jason all locked up at the ole asylum."** _

Of course. Jason had to remember this was a deception and he was the deceiver. Even Alfred would hate him in an instant if he knew what was really at play here. 

_You're not even good enough to be yourself....._

" Yeah, I'm a bit foggy when it comes to some things." He motioned to his head. " But mostly, I'm okay. Nothin' to worry 'bout." 

" Hmm." No part of Alfred's tone suggested he believed Jason, but once again, he didn't press the issue and Jason was pretty sure he loved Alfred for that.

" So...." Jason began after a sip of tea, precautious so as to not come off as suspicious. He had no idea how Hood would initiate conversation, so he went with what Jason Todd would do. That, at least, he had the lines to.

" When's Bruce coming back from Saudi?" Because he desperately needed to know when to not be here or anywhere in Gotham's perimeter. He was fairly sure seeing Hood's mentor was more than he would be able to handle, namely for the purpose that that man saw through the guises and acts of everyone. Unbroken bones would be a thing of the past if Bruce caught him. 

" I expect Master Wayne to return within a week. He took young Master Damian with him." Who the fucking hell was Damian? Another adoptive pity case? 

" An' where are the others? Tim and the rest?" He didn't want to ask about  _him_. Jason didn't care to know where  _he_  was. Hopefully drowning in a pit of tar while a river of piranhas deep-throated him.

" Master Timothy is patrolling Bludhaven with Miss Brown for the duration that Master Dick is gone."

"  _Oh_?" Jason asked, swishing a mouthful of tea around with his tongue, the formerly sweet, savoury drink turned sour by the mention of that damned name. " And where is  _Master_  Dick?" 

Alfred arched an eyebrow at his tone but said nothing about it, only answered the question.

" Off-world on a mission to Tamaran with Miss Koriand'r." And who the fuck was Miss Coriander? The name sounded like that of a slut's dragged fresh off the pole to be Dick's latest kiss and tell and forsake. 

_**" Miss Brown, Damian, Koriand'r, all these new people, Jasey! All these things you don't know.... how can you ever hope to pass for long as Hoodie? Two blinks and they'll all know."** _

" And Miss Gordon-" Before Alfred could finish that sentence and wisen him with what Babs was up to in this verse, the wall mounted landline sprung to life, the ringing as ear-piercing as the shrieking of a banshee stepping on a LEGO. With an 'excuse me', Alfred rose to get it and Jason watched him go, nervous as to who it could be. Few people had Wayne Manor's private number, which meant the caller was someone from the inner circle, and none of those people had anything but hatred towards Jason. Sure, if anything Hood said was true, then they had no problem with him.

But Jason was not the Hood, even if he technically was. He was fully aware that the 'family' didn't hate him in this world, but that was no help when it came to getting over the initial obstacle.

**_" .... And when they find out, yours and Dickie-bird's little misunderstanding will be a bump in a road compared to what they'll do."_ **

" Hello?" Alfred answered, holding the receiver against his ear, the only sounds apart from him being the muffled greeting of the other person. 

" Yes, yes, how are you?... Marvellous..... No, Master Dick isn't back yet..... I don't know, not soon enough to help you with your crisis..... Perhaps I can send someone else to bring the files to you?..... Yes, I can have them there today... Alright, take care." With the tone blaring through the tiny speaker, Alfred hung the phone back up and returned to Jason. This time, he didn't sit.

" That was a quick call." Jason remarked and was responded to with a nod. 

" It was Miss Gordon. She has requested an old case file from the Batcave delivered to her. I wonder if I could ask you to do this?"

For a moment, Jason was dumbfounded. What the hell should he say to that? Hood would probably give a snarky version of yes and he wanted to do just that, but there was also the small fact that it was  _Barbara_. Barbara who he hadn't seen in months and had recently sworn to kill, along with Tim and Dick. _Again_ , he reminded himself that although they were the same person, no one here was who he knew. Maybe she was as different as everyone else so far? Hopefully. Probably hoping for a bit much here, but maybe her and Tim weren't a thing?

" Uh, yeah, sure." Jason said when the words came to him, nervousness already forming a solid block of cement in his gut. He shouldn't be nervous. Not because of  _her_. 

" Elementary. I shall retrieve the files, wait here a moment, would you?" He didn't exactly linger to hear Jason's word of agreement, okay, and left the kitchen.  

Turning back to the table before him, both hands laid flat on it and the tick, tick, ticking of the clock on the wall sounding deafening, Jason blew his cheeks out in anxiousness. Now, what the hell was he going to do?

 

It was fifteen minutes later that Jason found himself outside Gotham's old clock tower, staring up at the large white face of the clock itself, its arms frozen at seven am sharp, and God alone knew how long until they last moved. As far as he knew, the building was abandoned, but the fact that Alfred wanted him to deliver the thick wad of case files here would say otherwise. 

Only, and there was a minor problem, he wasn't sure where exactly he should take them. Jason wanted to just abandon them at the doorstep and hope Barbara would find them,  but assuming she was wheelchair-bound here too, then that may not be the best thing he could do.

 _ **" But why do you care? Remember who chose Timmy-boy over you....."**_  
     
Jason lowered his eyes to the papers in his hands, papers in their thin brown cardboard casings, and wondered what could be in them. It was already a tad bit odd that they weren't uploaded digitally into the Bat's mainframe, in which case Barbara could have accessed them without all these theatrics. Curiosity getting the better of him, he parted the covers slightly and peeked in at the documents.  What could be so important that  _he_  was trusted with its delivery?

" _Jason_!" 

Jason's head snapped up before he ever really saw anything, and his eyes landed on a small girl coming down the front steps to greet him, a big smile on her face. He had no idea who the hell she was, but she seemed to know him - or _Hood_. And as an immediate example to that, she threw her arms apart and faster than Jason could jump back, out of her reach, they crashed around his midriff, enclosing him in a death grip where he was sure his ribs were being crushed to dust.

" I.... misses you." She said into his chest - she only reached his chin - and Jason had no idea what to do. At a loss, he gave her an awkward pat on her head of black silky hair.  He could have thrown her off with  _ease_  he wouldn't have to put effort behind, but there was an element here that made that the last thing he wanted to do. But he didn't know what it was or _why_. 

When she pulled away, she was still smiling with a brightness that no one had greeted him with, in probably his entire life. The petite little thing, she had almond-shaped wide brown eyes sparkling with something. Light? Love? Happiness? All those things Jason couldn't relate to, but it added a certain glow to her features that made her unmistakably beautiful.

" Has you....  _come_  brought papers?" Innocent, voice too sweet for comprehension, she asked when there was a space established between them again and he took a second to understand what she was saying. The words were correct and all members of the English language, but jumbled up in places they didn't belong. Still, she seemed to put so much effort behind everything she said that in the very least, he could appreciate that.

" Uhm, yeah. I got 'em right here." Jason made to extend them to her, hopefully he could avoid Barbara all together, but she waved them away.

" Come to give them Barbara by you's self." She insisted without Jason getting a word in before her small hand and delicate fingers were around his wrist in a surprisingly steely hold, pulling him along with her up the cold stone steps she'd just descended.  

**_" Kill her, Jason! Kill this little bitch!"_ **

_No. No, get the fuck out of my head, Joker._

**_" Kill the bitch or I will, pretty baby birdie!"_ **

_You're. Dead._

Jason heard him huff and mutter something more in his retreat to the dark confines of his skull, but by then they were already pushing through a door that hinges screeched loudly, distracting Jason from the auditory hallucination fucking with his head. Inside, more monitors than the Batcave could dare to dream of lined the walls from floor to roof with only a small window overlooking the city itself. Barbara was sitting in her wheelchair, her back to them and red hair pulled up into a tight ponytail, but strands of it had sought an escape and now framed her face. To Jason, it was like forbidden fruit not to reach out and tuck them back behind her ear. 

_**" She hates you, Jason... imagine if she knew what you did to Hood..."** _

_Right_. For once, Joker actually served to remind him of a valid point. He had to keep his head screwed on straight, no matter how beautiful Barbara looked in the reflection of her computer screen.  

" Hola, Babs."  Swallowing hard, Jason said with all the confidence he could muster and actually thinks he did a pretty good job hiding the swarm of butterflies in his gut when he approached with the files hanging from one hand. 

" Hello, Jason," she mumbled in response, more than a little distracted as she typed away. She was frowning at her monitor, frowning intensely, going through thousands of databases with speed that would put the Flash to shame. Her very green eyes darted from location to location, flickering over more things than Jason could count and the briefest glance seemed to tell her everything there was to know.

He better stay out of her sight lock.

When he set the case files down next to her, she uttered something sounding like the distant cousin of a thank you, and she didn't say anything more, not even offer an explanation as to what was in the files, although Jason wasn't certain why he'd been expecting one. He was just the delivery boy here, it was none of his concern what she was doing. 

" Is Roy how?" The little girl in the corner of the room asked, so quiet up until now that Jason had almost forgotten her presence. Keeping his sigh inward, Jason spun around to face her with a flourish. She still wore the sweetest smile with eyes so bright and curious.

" He's.... he's Roy." Jason responded and tried his very best to send a convincing prayer to the Big Man in the sky, hoping that the little girl wouldn't ask him specifics concerning Hood's boytoy. He didn't know shit about Roy outside the few things he'd picked up. Like for instance, he put cinnamon into hot chocolate. Fucking  _cinnamon_.

It wasn't cute. It wasn't quirky. It was fucking disgusting.

" And is sleeping with Roy gotten less bad?" She asked and Jason stared at her, wide-eyed, trying to determine whether or not she meant sleeping  _with_  Roy, or in his general vicinity.  If it was the former then he sure as hell wasn't replying, even if he knew what that was like. But innocent as she was, the little girl - whose name yet remained a mystery - watched him without seeing a thing wrong with what she had asked, and patiently waited for a reply. 

" Uh... I think I gotta go now if no one needs me any more." Jason said and got a disinterested nod from Barbara, basically a dismissal the likes of one you would give your little brother. _Ouch_. Much as he really, really wanted to talk with her more - about what, he didn't know, he knew he needed to get back anyway. By now, Roy had undoubtedly grown suspicious of the shower he'd taken, that was stretching towards its two-hour mark. He almost felt bad for the inevitable worry the redhead would be feeling if he discovered Jason's absence.

" Bye, bye, Jason." The little girl waved when Jason stepped past her, his shoulder accidentally brushing on her but she didn't seem phased. He couldn't believe he didn't knock her over, but he had already guessed she was stronger than she looked. You don't get into the Bat's inner circle if you're a delicate pansy.

* * *

Jason climbed back up to the still parted bathroom window and into the room itself, covert as the Bat standard demanded, and made the mistake of thinking he was still in the clear when, 

" Hey, babe." 

Masculine as he prided himself to be, Jason's dirty little secret was that he was easy to startle, and that took the cake. The small gasp was hard to stifle even at the speed he clamped his lower lip between his teeth.

Roy was there, lounging in the bone dry and empty bathtub with his feet up on the side and by the look in his bottle green eyes, Jason knew he was busted real bad. It felt like his skin was burning under that gaze, bubbling and turning to drizzle. But this was an odd reaction he was having because Roy wasn't glaring deathly at him, just hitting him full force with fucking _disapproval_.

" Where'd you go?"

For a few moments that were a few moments longer than he was comfortable with, Jason didn't know how to explain. 

But then he was hit with a big why the hell should he explain? Roy wasn't his superior, not his supervisor, not even his fucking _partner_. 

" Don't worry about it, gingersnap."  He coolly responded, able to keep the tongues of fire out his voice, raising it would only cause more calamity. Roy sat up but didn't leave the tub, crossing his legs and tattooed arms folded. 

" Don't worry about it? _Seriously_?" He arched a brow, the picture of being unimpressed alight on his face. " A couple nights ago, you didn't  _recognise_  me, you  _attacked_  me, you _don't_ remember who you were fighting or what they did to you, you keep  _disappearing_ , you're not sleeping, you hardly eat, you're _talking_ to yourself. And now you're telling me,"  he gave half an unamused laugh, " that I  _shouldn't_  worry?" 

" That's the gist of it."  

Again surprising Jason with how quick he could be, Roy rose and hopped out of the bath, coming to stand in front of him, arms crossing over his chest once more.

" I thought you'd get better if I left it, but clearly not."

" Oh yeah? And what do  _you_  think will help me get  _better_?" Jason inquired with some sarcasm. It had long since been established that nothing could fix what was wrong with him and Roy was going to be sorely disappointed if he started beating a dead horse.

" I think staying in the house for one, trusting me for another." Jason scowled. He didn't know which of those was a bigger ask.

" You can't lock me up just because you're  _uneasy_." Jason said back, narrowing his eyes and muscles tensing without his sayso. He stared at Roy partly through his lashes and readied himself. For what? Well, obviously confrontation meant a physical fight was within sight.

" Me?  _Uneasy_? I'm frigging  _terrified_  for you right now, Jason." Roy admitted and something about him looked desperate. It didn't sit well with Jason.

He continued. " But this isn't about me. This is about you sneaking off to locations unknown, when neither of us can trust your mind right now. Whoever attacked you, whoever that was, is still out there and you don't know if they're coming back." 

" I can protect myself, Roy." Jason snapped, finally beginning to lose the shaky grasp he'd had on his cool. " The only reason there's a problem here is that you're fucking making one." 

" _Me?_ " Roy's brows flew up, taken aback like Jason just slapped him. Maybe he should because it sure as hell would resolve this faster. 

But some tiny, well-hidden part of him didn't want to hurt Roy.

Jason  _hated_  that part.

" Jason, if you could protect yourself as well as you think, none of this would have happened in the first place!" The redhead exclaimed, boiling over and about time because Jason didn't know how to fight without both parties fuelled by anger. 

Still, that ill-thought-out comment packed a hard punch, struck a wrong chord in a sense that it was an A1 flashback to Bruce yelling at him and Dick poking him with jibes, all for not meeting their high set bar of expectations. 

_**" He thinks you're just as useless as they said! He's just like them, birdie!"** _

Jason probably wasn't angry at Roy when he lashed out. In fact, he saw Bruce and Dick and Joker when he grabbed Roy by the front of his T-shirt and  _threw_  him, threw him into the wall with a solid crack and sharp gasp when he fell down it.  

" You really think I can't protect myself?" Jason demanded, storming over, disallowing for Roy to pick himself up off the ground and did it for him, grabbing him by his arm and yanking him up. The redhead looked startled but confronting Jason, what the hell kinda reaction was he expecting?

_**" That's the stuff, bird boy! Kill him! Kill him! Right here!"** _

" That I  _can't_  fight?" Their faces were an inch apart when he hissed that, through his teeth. " Want me to prove it, Harper? Huh? You wanna  _fight_  me?"  

" Goddammit, Jason,  _no_!" Roy writhed, trying to free himself and to save him the trouble, Jason dropped him back onto his feet, where he almost lost his balance, regaining it only with the wall to his back. His eyes snapped to Jason's and met there with something undecided, like annoyance trying not to stay. The emerald pools of hatred Jason had expected weren't there and it drove the stake home harder because he didn't fucking understand. Why wasn't the redhead throwing punches yet?

Roy pushed himself away from the wall and came right up to Jason, until he was the one who took the step back. Despite himself, despite how he could murder Roy so easily, Jason felt cornered. 

" Can't you see that I'm worried about you?" Roy asked and it sounded like a plea. He looked like it was a plea. " I'm not challenging you, Okay? I -" Running his hand through his long hair, he sighed, lost, near distressed in this mess they'd concocted together.

" I didn't mean what I said, alright? I didn't mean you can't protect yourself or anythin' like that. I just don't want you out there," Roy threw his arm to the side in a rather intense gesture to the still open window. " Alone while that guy is still lurkin' around. He hurt you last time, god knows how, an' I wasn't fast enough to help you. I don't want that again. I _don't_."

There was no delicate way to say this, but Jason blatantly gaped at him through his confusion. That was the problem here? Was Roy for real? Even if he was, where was the hitting and screaming? Why wasn't he getting verbally chewed up?

 ** _" Bird boy!"_**  A harsh blow from behind caught Jason upside the head, whiplash sharp and sudden. He stumbled to the side and struggled for his footing when all around him, the room exploded into one familiar, awful shrieking sound.

**_" Hahahahahhahahahhahahah!!!!"_ **

It screamed out at him from seemingly every tile and small crack in the wall, from outside and the taps and even the faucets, but spinning around on his heel, Jason couldn't find the origin. Where was the clown?  _Where?!_

" Babe, what's-" Roy said something more but it went past Jason's hearing and what replaced it was the phantom singing of an object sailing through the air seconds in advance to crashing into his side with a sickening hollow knock. Something in his chest burst with the impact and the pain barely went through his head before he was met with the wall, full on and  _hard_ , and a hundred Jokers, all erupting into the room in a distorted chromatic aberration of colour and cackling. 

Jason was backed into the corner, cold tiles on fire against his back, panting and throat straining against the harsh bursts of air he was barely getting out.

 ** _" Jason! Jason! Jason!"_**  The hoard of painted freaks shrieked at him, over and over, somehow turning his own name into the worst sound in the world, like the contemptuous mockery of a demon standing over the damned, whose cries lit up the night. Sending rapid glances to every corner and square inch of the room, Jason tried his hardest to spot the real Joker. 

 ** _" Over here, Jay-lad!"_**  The yell ended with the start of a train of crazed laughter when Jason snapped his terrified, widened eyes to the only voice acting out of synchrony, belonging to the smudge of purple and white and green to his left. 

Something more than the Joker's face shattered audibly when Jason smashed his fist it, like the shower of glass pouring onto the floor. 

 

For the first time since they met almost seven years ago, Roy was  _hesitant_  to approach his partner after whatever mental breakdown he just witnessed. Knees drawn, face buried in them, there was an unseen barrier formed solid like chrysalis around Jason where he had retreated into the corner furthest. Black locks of hair were tangled, stabbing the air at odd angles. His quivering right arm was extended towards Roy,  cupping a pool of blood in his palm that drip-dropped down into a steadily growing mess among the cracked shards of mirror, covering the floor. Drip, drip, drip, nothing sounded louder than that, not even the shaky breaths.

Jason was shaking, small constant tremors, shoulders pulled in to make as tight a ball as possible to hide inside of. The shallow sips more like gasps weren't enough to stabilize him, Roy knew, and if Jason had been on his feet, he was sure hyperventilation would have put a dent in that.

A bangle of purple and black was forming around his wrist, his side throbbing and bearing the marks of blunt force, fear of another injury wasn't the obstacle for Roy. Fuck, if he were scared of getting roughed up - by villains, heroes, or something in between - then he never would have put on the mask and sparkly bling outfit. So where was this hesitation coming from? Well, Roy had no idea  _what_  to do. He'd helped bring Jason down during his multitude of panic attacks in the past, but this wasn't _that_. It was whole universes apart, more violent than anything Roy had seen before. It was adrenaline-inducing in its severity.

" J - Jason?" Roy pushed himself, pushed just to get that name out from between his lips and the effort wasn't rewarded by a response. Unsurprisingly. 

Clearing his throat, Roy cautiously approached and noticed the sound of footfalls only made Jason draw tighter within himself, as if every tiny sound was magnified to a countless number in his head. Jason's hand was balled loosely and he kept knocking on the side of his skull, in a shuddering mantra whispering to himself something Roy could barely make sense of. He sounded so weak and  _breakable_. 

"  _Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, sh - sh_.... leave me alone..."  

That latter part, Roy didn't know if it was meant to ward him off, or someone else. Someone who wasn't there. Sighing faintly underneath his breath, Roy lowered himself down, beside his crying partner, crossing his legs and for a few ticks, sitting in silence on his part. 

" Babe," he finally said, raising and then carefully sliding his arm around Jason. The touch wasn't accepted, it wasn't rejected, and if only tolerated, then that was enough. He pulled Jason inwards to himself ever so slightly, or at least until he could rest his cheek against his damp, tousled hair, listening to the sobbing quieten down, if not by much.

" It's alright, Jay. He's not here," Roy promised, despite the absence of knowledge concerning who 'he' was. It was a promise nonetheless and that, though missable in the blink of an eye, was a measly comfort to Jason.

" 'M not gonna let anyone hurt you." He vowed again, this time, finishing the blood seal by bringing both arms around Jason, getting no push back or outburst. 

Maybe Jason was just too damn tired to fight him on this. 

But as Roy sat there, enveloping his teary partner, he couldn't help the foreboding sense that there was a much greater thing amiss here than it seemed, which was saying a lot since things seriously sucked right now.

* * *

 

It was over. His patience had run out. In the wake of the fourth night when he had to stay in the shadows and watch the Knight come and go from the asylum, Zsasz knew he couldn't stand to wait another hour. He was an impatient man without tolerance for the world lingering in stillness and for god's sake, it had been an entire day since he dipped his knife blade into skin and bone, an entire day without the delicious metallic tang of blood on his tongue, so didn't he deserve a little something for his immeasurable show of restraint?

Zsasz would say  _yes_ , yes all the way, and the dagger whispered in agreement and burned in his grasp,  _hungry_. He tightened his fingers around it, knuckles cracking, leather binds of the handle creaking.

" Just a bit longer, dear," he told his weapon, watching as it glinted like silver underneath the pale moonlight. The longer he stared at the cool metal, yearning to feed, the more the breathy murmurs turned from whispers to a dissonant chant for death. Though the world around him continued on unravelling page roll by slow page roll, the mantra couldn't go ignored, not with how powerfully it drew him in.

_**Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill.** _

" Kill. Kill. Kill...."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa, a lot happened here, didn't it? Part of me is beginning to think Roy likes being thrown around.


	6. Your Choice, Not Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up, buttercup, you're in for a ride.

Normally, anaesthetic kept you under for two hours, tops, but depending on the frequency between doses, that could be a massive understatement, and _Arkham_ , that crazy, _crazy_ son-of-a-bitch, had Jason drugged out of his head for the better part of five days. That is, when he wasn't gleaning any and all tidbits of information Jason was hesitant to give him. But the thing about yourself is, that you know how your biggest weaknesses. 

Arkham knew the strings that needed pulling to unravel certain images. 

Jason had been having an extremely drug-induced dream about snowfall over a field of grain, partially covered by the white blanket, bits of golden brown peeking out from under it, when he drowsily became aware of scuffling. _Scuffling_? Yeah, small shuffles scraping against the dust-laden floor somewhere to his left, off in the distance. Probably outside the damn cell. The closer it got, the more he began to make it out that they were soft, _light_ footfalls.  That rang an alarm bell when initially he'd thought it was his beloved double, but that guy did _not_ carry himself with the dainty little pixie steps he was hearing. If the Arkham Knight was less than ten yards away, you'd know about it just from the sound akin to a storm, that much Jason had learned.

 _You need to wake up.... Gotta wake up...._ Something in his head that hadn't been wrong before kept urging him to do that. Even stuporous as he was, Jason knew ignoring it would be the worst thing he could do. Weakly, he tugged his wrists, ever-present ropes pushing back harder and reminding him, that he was still very much tied up here.  It required some effort, but he batted his eyes apart, blurring vision swimming over his bound limbs, the glint of chains wrapped around his arms catching his attention. _Dammit_. Arkham made good on his promise to reinforce these. 

At his movement, the links jingled softly against one another, faint as the sound was, it was enough to be picked up by whoever was here with him, as their end of the hall fell into complete silence.  

_Fuck._

Whatever beast or man was stalking the asylum's corridors - he had more to worry about if it was human -, Jason had just let them know where he was. The sluggishness was gradually fading and in place of it, bat instinct was kicking in and screaming at him to get the fuck outta here. Easier said than done.  

By now, it wasn't commonplace for Jason to come around to a room without Arkham. In fact, it hadn't happened once, but he didn't linger on how bizarre it was that his identical wasn't here tonight. He focused all his mind and body on getting loose before his company was upped by one. He could hear it, the footsteps had started up again and were getting closer, closer, closer.  

Being an escape artist, _well_ , that was just part of being a bat, unarguably one of the key traits, but all be damned if the pumps of paralytics and anaesthetic he'd been abused by of late didn't cause a blockage in how fast his brain could send commands to his body. Every inch he moved was a rigid jerk, subsequently making the chains clink and clatter together louder. 

Then he froze when he heard _it_. A quiet breathy chant, murmured but it sounded like a proclamation,

" Kill. Kill.... Kill.. Kill. Kill. Kill..... Kill. Kill..."

Well, if he didn't think he was in trouble before... The creeper couldn't be more than a few meters away, his shadow stretching long in front of him, steps getting quicker than before, _eager_.

" Fuck me." Jason grumbled, still half out his right mind when he struggled and pulled against the chains, but he was getting nowhere fast. Before this, Jason had only ever been bound without being able to get free once, five years ago, and in this instance, he held the drugs 100% accountable for his inability.   

In fact, another wave of disorientation careered into him and he did his best to fight it off and protect his clear headedness, but he must have lost the battle for a few beats because the next thing he knew, the murmuring was right beside him, the insistent, demented carol still going,

_" Kill. Kill. Kill."_

A cold, sharp something traced the side of Jason's neck, the point teasing with him as it left kisses along his jugular, threatening to cut. Legs fastened to the chair, it agonised Jason to a new extent  to not be able to kick out, and fluttering his lashes apart again, this time it wasn't to the empty room, but to a set of unblinking, mad pale blue eyes so close, it made him flinch. Jason shied back far as he could, the bit of space revealing the sickly white skin and stringy fading blond hair of his company, and blatant as the warning cry of an air raid siren, were the rows and rows of lines that stretched across the aforementioned sickly white skin. Scars, a tally to keep count of his victims.

Victor _fucking_ Zsasz, sometimes referred to as the second Jack the Ripper.

" Good morning." Zsasz smiled, uneven yellowing teeth flashing between his chapped lips. That sharp point Jason had recalled? Well, that was none other than the edge of Zsasz knife, perched by his throat, ready to drag straight through. 

Jason shifted in his ropes and chains, that mess of overkill he couldn't break free from, suddenly aware of his luck zeroing down to nil if it hadn't before. Arkham was a total nutcase, but Zsasz would make him scared. 

" 'Morning, fuck face." Jason replied, tone cut and dry and uninterested in whatever monologue Zsasz had cued up to prove the point of how _vulnerable_ and oh-so-defenceless he was. Thank you, Jason had noticed. 

" A lil' tied up, I see." Zsasz observed and Jason imagined an animated crown appearing on his head, titled king of the obvious because _fuck_ , if he didn't deserve it.

" You just keep blowing my mind with your observations, Vicky." Jason said, sarcasm melting into his voice so naturally. " You sure those scars aren't IQ points?" 

Zsasz gave a small humourless chuckle, a rare fete to hear him do so, and took Jason's chin in betwixt his index and thumb, turning his head. Jason could have resisted or made it harder for Zsasz, but he wanted to see where this goes, especially because of the curious way those mad pastel blue eyes took a keen interest in his left cheek, the very one where Arkham, for all his insanity, wore that pitiable brand. 

Unless, by some miracle, Victor Zsasz had run into his counterpart and Arkham purposefully let him behold his face all he wanted, then Zsasz shouldn't be looking for what Jason thought he was looking for, no chance he'd know about the brand. But, as if on cue to prove him wrong, the madman traced the letter J onto Jason's skin with his thumb.    

How the hell did he....?

" Just can't get used to you like this, kid."  Zsasz said when he eventually let go and leaned back ever so slightly, releasing the breath Jason hadn't realised he was holding. 

" You seem less rabid than the Knight." He went on to muse, tilting his head and examining Jason in a new light he'd previously not seen. " He's an angry beaten dog. You're more.... more of a lap dog." 

" Interesting analogy." Jason gave him that. Now wide awake, he knew he had only minutes before Zsasz got tired of chit-chatting and run him through for giggles. The term now or never came to mind, but now _what_? He was wrapped up tighter than a Christmas present left alone with Roy Harper and a roll of sellotape.  Although, Zsasz had a knife.... the point of which was now comfortably nestling against his abdomen. Arkham had stripped Jason of all his body armour, so that blade getting twisted up in his guts was one gentle push away. 

" Outside the six month anniversary, Joker never let me cut Robin, and even then, just dull blades."  Zsasz tipped his head in thought. " I think it's because he had soft spot for the birdie. A _special_ kinda love for 'im. I mean, sure, Joker captured the kid, but he coulda shared more of'en." 

Zsasz paused and while he did, Jason tried to focus on how he was gonna get outta here, but he couldn't keep his mind from pondering the meaning behind what Zsasz was telling him about his counterpart. Soft spot? Special kinda love? Joker didn't have those for anyone, not even Harley Quinn. 

" But I bet a Z would look good cut into your face, _Jason_."  

" Don't expect much for screams." Uncaring - for now - of why he knew Arkham or their shared name, Jason told him that while laborously moving his head from one shoulder to the other. He had it. How he was gonna get himself free. Arkham was too smart to fall for this, but Zsasz? Well, he was no grade-A genius. 

" Oh, Jason, a knife buried in your face? It'll make anyone scream." His eyes glittered with insane eagerness for blood, he practically thirsted for it, day in, day out. Jason didn't doubt, that if his veins were opened here, this bastard would drink his fill. He seemed to think he was a vampire.

" Yeah, I'm not sure." Jason blinked at odd times, swallowing down a mouthful of saliva. " Other-me, the _Knight_.... that guy's had me pumped full of anaesthetics and paralytics and what-have-yous for a couple days now. I'm feeling kinda numb, all the dizziness aside." 

" _Dizziness_?" Zsasz asked, a new smile forming, a new and _sick_ smile. Nailhead, meet hammer because Jason knew these guys too well. 

" Well, then, I guess we can get more inventive." Pressing his hand into Jason's throat to still him,  Zsasz began sawing through Jason's binds when he thought he was too drugged up to escape. He was a few hours too late for that. Ropes soon gone, he started on the chains next, making quick work of the locks by smashing his knife into them. They clattered when they struck the floor, broken pieces and all.

" Trust me, kid," Zsasz said, slotting his hand behind Jason's back so as to yank him up. " You're gonna regret spilling those beans. You got no idea how much fun it can be to slice up someone who can't feel it, but they get to watch as one by one, their limbs come off and-"

Jason kneed him in the face, solid bone smashing a break across his nose and ending his ramblings in an instant with the burst of blood and pain. But hadn't that been what Zsasz wanted? Regardless, the scar covered lunatic stumbled back, clutching a hand over his caved-in face.

Hoping and praying the Pit's rapid rejuvenation had healed his leg enough to stand on, Jason ripped the rest of his restraints off with his freed hand - courtesy of his wannabe slaughterer - and put Lazarus' promised properties to the test when he bounded onto his feet. His joints cracked loudly when he did, the side effect of neglecting the use of his limbs for days, muscles straining from the sudden activity. Dulled down to a constant powerful ache, his busted tibia screamed out in protest to his acrobatics, begging for an end in the form of lightning sharp pain needling through him. Jason caught himself just barely when he fell, arms tensed to keep his face from splitting wide open on the concrete.  

Dammit, he'd underestimated how much his leg had barely healed. The bone was no longer splintered, that he could tell from just the way the fragments weren't gritting together, but the fractures were still there. Still there and making it pretty damn painful to stand, much less walk or ideally, _run_.

From the corner of his eye, he caught a glance of Zsasz and immediately threw his weight to his side, rolling out of the path of a hard kick that would have left no air in his lungs.  Jason scrambled to get back up, balancing himself with his forearm against the wall while with a flash of steel, Zsasz came at him, his blade held above his head and ready to plunge down.  

Jason huffed a small sigh because he could seldom believe the shit he had to deal with on a basis, and ducked under Zsasz's arm when he swung it, the knife off by millimetres from becoming the new contents of his skull.   Zsasz was no master martial artist, not even close, he left his ribs exposed when he struck, which is when Jason struck, dislocating something with the force behind the heel of his hand slamming into Zsasz. The man gasped quick, but that was all, no notice to the unsaid warning to back the fuck off.

Oh well. Jason didn't much care for soft handling when twisted back 'round and kicked Zsasz in the lower back, effectively sending him crashing into the brickwork that had been Jason's steady just seconds since, but not before the faultlessly keen serrated edge of the weapon grazed his flank. It didn't feel like more than a peck, barely going through the first thin layer of skin, but Jason's assumptions were proven incorrect when a hot cascade poured down the curve of his hip, long before the pain registered. He gasped when he actually _felt_ it, searing and Jason realised how badly he really fucked up the same instant.

Zsasz knives were notoriously poisoned, just a scratch could be fatal.

" That's just a taste, birdie." Zsasz taunted, realising Jason's realisation about the moment he had it, pushing himself away from the wall and approaching while Jason limped back, glaring while he tried to control the bleeding with his fingers pressed hard over the ragged lesion. Just moments in, he could already tell there was way too much blood.

" Yeah," Jason bit, taking cautionary unsteady steps back until the small of his back thudded into the table Arkham had left his equipment scattered across. Namely, the crocodile clips wired to the taser in his suit. Jason groped the surface behind him blindly, fingers curling around the object of his desire.

" You've had a taste, so how about a full course meal? It's on the house." He continued and waited, he waited for the second that Zsasz lunged for him, hands outstretched in anticipation to close around his neck and squeeze until his eyes popped out their sockets. 

Only Jason cut his intentions short with the thrust of the sprung metal mouth of the crocodile clip into his chest. 

Fucking _zap._ If that didn't leave a mark, nothing would. The awe-inspiring voltage showed its steel and whipped the air back and forth with bright electric currents. Zsasz convulsed in the throes of a stuttering scream that kept cutting off midway, and pleasing as it would have been to keep electrocuting the sick bastard longer, Jason dropped the devices the instant he knew he could. They hit the ground, beside Zsasz incapacitated body.

Jason panted, in and out through his mouth, tired but aware Arkham could reappear out the blue at any given time and lasso him up all over again.

Wincing, Jason carefully stepped over Zsasz, his steps barely hovering above the ground, long drag sounds following his attempts to walk. Fuck, he wasn't feeling so good. The torture, malnourishment, constant drugs, all those he'd dealt with and walked away in the past, but whatever was on Zsasz's knife, that shit was potent. The cut itself wasn't so deep, but the blood showed no signs of clotting or even stilling, all leading Jason to believe it was laced with a fibrinolytic of some kind, or anything else that got in the way of wounds sealing shut. 

Bleeding out from a graze like this was suddenly a possibility.

A quick scan over his scattered gear on the table revealed neither his tracer or comm link was stowed here anymore, so no chance of calling Roy to bail him out. _Roy_.... the poor ginger would be so worried by now. Quite honestly, it was surprising he hadn't found Jason by now. He went from scatterbrained archer to Batman Jr. whenever his partner was in trouble.  

Thoughts of his boyfriend and his whereabouts aside, Jason put his all into concentrating on taking steps and not overestimating how much his balance could do for him right now. Zsasz wouldn't be out for long and he'd have a trail of red droplets to follow when he did come around, all hastening Jason, or as much as he could hasten with a fractured leg and whatnot.  

Carefully treading out of the cell, Jason gripped the iron bars of the door for balance when he swayed, staining the rusted metal with crimson. A groan passed through his teeth, muffled by the hiss of breath. The toxin tingled and burned on the partings of his flesh, sticking no matter if he tried to clean it off. It was _in_ him, not on him.  

Meter by slow meter, Jason _needed_ the wall to lean on, a scuffed red handprint pressed into it for every time he did,  and he fell more than once, slumping onto his knees, at a duality when his body wanted to not move an inch but his brain commanded him to get the fuck up. He went with what his brain wanted. 

Pushing himself to go forward, Jason wiped blood off his cheek, but only ended smudging it with dirt, caking the left side of his face.

His hip, one entire side of his leg, his jeans plastered to his skin, everything was an oily slick and undesirable mess that would have been far more irritable, if he'd had the capacity to focus on more than just navigating himself outta here. Jason had never been in this particular part of Arkham Asylum, but he hoped the layout didn't differ much from the wings he had visited.  He was incarcerated here a year or so ago, and though he doubted it was anywhere near the time his doppelganger spent captive, he was familiar-ish with the ins and outs.  

Jason was going to put it down to the blood loss causing him to hear things when footsteps echoed in the hall ahead, but when the shadows were cast onto the wall as they neared, just around the corner, that thought went out the window. He would have been worried it was his double, if there hadn't been _two_ shadows and sets of footfalls. 

Some childish sense of relief filled him because one of those shadows - the taller one - had pointed ears. Bruce should still be in Saudia Arabia, but Jason would be lying if he tried to tell himself he was disappointed right now. 

'Bruce!' he wanted to yell, let his father figure know of his location, but it didn't come out as loud as he wanted and it ended up sounding like the yell of a small startled child. But, it did work and the footsteps sped up, breaking from a brisk walk to near jogging, and within seconds the two figures broke into view. Their gazes immediately locked onto Jason and they made a beeline for him.

Jason paused when Batman and Robin came closer into view. That was definitely not Damian, it looked more like... _Tim_? With _cropped_ hair? And either Bruce had spent a cycle in a dryer and shrunk, or another man of a daintier build was wearing his suit. The closer he got, the more Jason began to think the facial features matched....

" _Dick_?" By now, Jason had completely frozen by the wall, leaning on it for support and though his hand clamped over his side was the only barrier between him and bleeding out faster, he stared wide-eyed while he tried to figure out what the hell was going on. Why was Dick wearing the Bat suit? Why was Tim traipsing around under a mantle that was no longer his?

That foreboding sense that something was pretty fucking wrong reached a climax.

" Jason," Dick said, or spat, and the amount of the vehemence of bitterness in his voice took Jason aback. That _wasn't_ his brother speaking, or at least, not the one he knew. All those things Arkham had grumbled about concerning his family suddenly came to mind.  

" You're coming back with us."  He was told, no, _ordered_ , seconds before Dick's hand lunged out and grabbed hold of his forearm, dragging him forward a bit while he reached behind his back for cuffs. Jason drew a quick breath, Dick's rough grip and yanking him around doing nothing positive for his injuries.

" Get the fuck off me, Dick." Jason tore his limb back to himself and the rapid glare he got in response was nothing short of hateful.  It sent shivers down his spine just by how cold and hot it was at once, like liquid nitrogen. 

And then Dick backhanded him. Fucking _backhanded_. Like a mutt on discipline, the blow whipped hard against his cheek with a ruthless smack when it both hit and when his lost balance was met with the wall.  The sharp edges of brickwork grazed his palms when he tried catching himself and the next thing he knew, he was on the ground, by Dick's feet. In his mouth, he tasted copper, the bitter tang enough to make him cringe.

If it all wasn't bad enough, the fractured leg, the lesion imitating the Grand Canyon on his flank, _these_ two, Dick grabbed him by the back of his neck, fingers burrowing into his skin to leave behind marks, and hauled him onto his feet, only to pass on another punch, splitting his lip this time. Jason barely gave a muffled yelp before Tim bounded up behind and straddled him, hooking his arms beneath Jason's, holding him in place for Dick to beat on.   

Tim wasn't stronger than him, neither was Dick, on any _ordinary_ day that is, when they weren't double-teaming an already injured bat. Jason lost count of how many times Dick's knuckles left their imprints on his body or how many thunks ran through the air, overlapping his struggles to get free, every punch leaving a new part of him aching all the way to the bone. His head hurt too much. His body hurt too much. It seemed that everything hurt too much and still, he managed to get in one solid kick with his good leg, right into Dick's gut. The throwback as enough to send Dick stumbling and Tim as well, unable to restrain him and maintain his balance both at once.

Jason elbowed Tim in the throat and got his hands all the way off him with a harsh half-stifled yell.  He couldn't fight them off and probably couldn't run too far before they caught up, he knew that before he tried, but any attempts to get away were short-lived when Dick grabbed a fistful of his neck and yanked him towards himself. There, he jabbed his balled hand into Jason's gut, pretty harmless were it not for the batarang in his gloved fist, the point of the wing sticking outward. 

The cry Jason gave was wet and breathless, the sudden pain sheeting through him with horrifying intensity when the serrated edge pulled back, out of his intestines, slicing the opening wider as it did, only to crash back. There was some level of disbelief when Jason glanced at Dick then watched the few seconds of the batarang sailing back and forth, in and out of him with a red spray of mist each time, leaving more dark red holes stretched across his middle than he could count.  The screams didn't even register when they tore between his lips.

Tim yelled out something like a choked 'no', his voice badly strained and nearly inaudible by the damage Jason did.

Then it hit Jason. Truly _hit_ him. This was Dick Grayson doing this, the brother he had arguments and fights with, but deep down, still _loved_.

" It didn't have to go like this, _little wing_ ," Dick said when he finally stopped and after a second of relentless eye contact that burned the surrounding world away,  let Jason fall, a colossal stain of ruby red already forming beneath him. 

" _Your_ choice, not mine."  Ruthless white eyes narrowed and leered knives of hatred at him, somehow sharper than the bloodstained batarang dangling from Dick's hand, red beads rolling off the edge. The white film of the cowl aside, Jason knew those eyes were clear crystalline blue, and couldn't imagine anger or hatred of this extent having any place in them. Tim, on the other hand, well, his gaze was wide behind his mask, as if he hadn't expected what Dick just did. Wide and.... a tad _horrified_? 

".... Either way, I am not leaving you prowling around our Gotham, or any other."

Laying there, warmth draining fast from his body, blood bubbling past his teeth, breathing coming in short intermittent gasps, Jason found it odd that the lights hanging from the ceiling kept flickering. He didn't remember this wing having any power.

When he got back home, he would have to ask Roy about that.

Barely, he heard Dick and Tim exchange muffled words, too distant to make out as they barely bobbed into his field of recognition. They were standing over him on either side, but Jason could focus only on the lights.

They appeared to be getting brighter....

* * *

 

Roy felt pretty damn awful about what he had done. 

An hour or two, maybe even three, after the initial panic attack happened, Jason came out of his near catatonic state of whispering something too low and quiet to hear, to himself, over and over again in a cycle he couldn't break. And when he eventually did, he still remained shaken up and squirrelly. Almost fragile. In two words, not himself.

It had never, _ever_ taken Jason that long to snap out of the dissociation that often followed his episodes. Roy should know, he'd sat with his partner through all of them, including every second of this latest one. In all honesty, the intensity of this fit scared Roy. Genuinely scared him. To see Jason crying so hard he couldn't breathe, shaking like someone was electrocuting him, not see or hear any of the things Roy was trying to calm him down with.... it was the worst kind of torture. 

So back to what Roy was feeling guilty over. After some insisting, he managed to get Jason to have a glass of water, and he only took three small swallows, but it was plenty enough for the tranquillisers to kick in. Yes, Roy _roofied_ his boyfriend. He never said he was proud, and this was necessary, and after leaving Jason asleep (be it drug induced) on the couch and making sure he wouldn't wake up, Roy geared himself up, bow, trucker cap and all, he was off, out the window and into the night lit city.

He felt fucking terrible, his conscious gnawing him into bits from the inside out, but he did what he did for Jason's own good. Roy had to venture out, but taking Jason with wasn't an option in his current state, and neither was leaving him to his own devices. Roy picked the option he felt safest with. 

When he first rushed to the scene all this happened at, the storage facility opposite the seafood restaurant, Roy marked the location on his GPS for later purposes, which proved to be here and now. He found the place again with ease, fast, capable even without his preplanning, but that had done no harm. 

Roy looked for the first accessible entrance, let himself in, and fortunately the warehouse still remained abandoned. There were crates stacked high, some touching the roof beams, made of wood and solid plastic, the sides riddled with bullet holes. A firefight happened in here, no question.

Venturing further into the maze of crates, it wasn't long before Roy stumbled upon something he may rather no have. And that was, large black stains spread out across the floor, that he at first mistook for oil spills, but the flaky consistency and stagnant metallic smell said otherwise.

 _Blood_ , several days into ageing. 

Roy bit his lip when he leaned down to collect samples of it. This couldn't be Jason's, he hadn't had any injuries that could have bled this much, and that was a small comfort. This must belong to whoever attacked his partner. Hopefully, it was also the means to identify said person.  Roy wasn't violent, he really wasn't, but that bastard was in for a whole new wide and frightening world of pain. 

Samples collected and stowed away  into a ziplock bag, Roy put it that into the safety of the compartments built into  his belt, and continued looking around the perimeter. He really should have done this days ago but up until now, leaving Jason hadn't been possible. 

Fuck, he wished some of the bat family were in town right now, or at least not too busy to help.

Rolled beneath a pallet resembling a flat wooden block supporting a heavy crate, Roy found an empty tube of clotting gel. _This_ , he could say for 100% certainty, belonged to Jason. Roy knew because he had made it himself and practically forced Jason to carry it around with him, and while it did some good to know it had come in handy, Roy also couldn't help but think that he had not seen any signs of Jason actually using it that night. He hadn't noticed any cuts packed with the distinct white substance, but maybe there were some and he just overlooked them?  

Next, Roy discovered zip ties, a duo of them, cut and left by an iron support beam. He picked one up and turned it in his hand slowly, examining the cleanly sliced through edges, making him think a knife went through. But even if it did, these he could put down to any number of things, including anything to do with transporting things in and out of the storage facility. Maybe the zip ties had been used to hold materials together? By themselves, these weren't suspicious.  

Roy inspected the surroundings further but ultimately, found nothing noteworthy. He went back home with his few findings. He made sure Jason was still asleep, which he was, and went straight to his makeshift lab, built on the kitchen side. In the beginning, when they first moved in together, Jason had protested to his quote-on-quote, 'junk' taking up residence on the counter, since he liked cooking and Roy was cutting his space short. But, the thing with functional relationships was, is that you make things work. Eventually, they reached a medium where Roy could have the windowsills, part of the counter and a quarter of the table, so long as he didn't burn anything on the stove or store corrosive  chemicals in the fridge. 

They could both work with that. Literally.

While he ran tests on the blood sample to ID its owner, Roy went over everything the cameras picked up on that night, just in case he missed something. Anything, any small detail he'd blinked and not seen, could be of help. 

Then sure enough, while frame by frame analysing cam 2B for the thousandth time, seconds before it time skipped to three hours later - courtesy of being scrubbed clean by Jason's assailant -, Roy spotted _it_. It was very brief, bat your eyes once and you'll miss it: a flash of a white humanoid figure. The click was loud when he punched his thumb down on the space bar, hitting pause at exactly the right moment to make out at least one person who'd been there, at alley outside the warehouse. He - Roy assumed it was a he - was visible no more than seconds, by the green trashcan, before everything went fuzzy and jumped to 03:23, but freezing the footage on him, Roy didn't need IAFIS to recognise the pale scarred man as Victor Zsasz.

But that didn't make any sense for a number of factors. One, he was currently incarcerated at Arkham Asylum, not to mention he wasn't skilled enough to harm Jason and even if he, by some wonder, _had_ , then he would not have left him alive. No chance. 

Roy didn't ponder that for long, however, when the ping of his second laptop alerted him of its completion running the blood sample. He turned in his seat and the moment he looked over the screen, he frowned. The scan claimed the blood was Jason's, but that couldn't be for the aforementioned reasons. There must have been a contamination at some point, so Roy ran the tests again, this time with the spare sample he had picked. Lo and behold, the results weren't any different.

How could this be _Jason's_..... when he hadn't had any wounds severe enough for stains as large as the ones on the warehouse floor?  

Roy enlaced his fingers, elbows pressing against the table, and rested his chin on his hands, staring into the nothingness of the dark kitchen as his mind went through gymnastics in search for answers, explanations and scenarios that would make sense. But for that latter part, nothing really did. 

What the hell was going on? What wasn't he seeing? 

Sighing, Roy rose when he noticed the time and closed both his laptops, well aware that staring at bright screens with nothing in his brain would get him nowhere, no matter how long he did it for. 

The sounds of his light footsteps swallowed up by the carpeted floor, Roy left the kitchen and went over into the lounge. The constant furrow of his brow was a testament to how bothered by all of this he was, unable to find his peace even when he was gazing upon Jason, safe and sound, right here with him, and still he was at an intense unease.  It's not like his partner was somewhere far away where Roy couldn't protect him, it's not like he didn't have his eyes on him, but.... something was very badly wrong. He could sense it in the air, so tense it could be carved. 

Roy watched his sleeping boyfriend as the minutes stretched on, going over everything until his mind was a jumble not even Batman could make sense of. With another little exhale, he lowered himself onto the edge of the couch and sat by Jason, who was curled around himself, the outlines of his body showing through the comforter Roy had laid over him before leaving. 

" What happened to you, babe?" Roy whispered, to himself mostly, the silence absorbing his voice. He reached out and ran the back of his hand over Jason's cheek, carefully caressing him while he purposefully avoided the graze plaster. He didn't want to hurt Jason by accidentally coming too close to the cut, which by the way, should have healed enough by now to no longer need the additional coverage.  

" I'll figure it out, though. Don't worry." Roy assured him while he leaned in and sealed the promise with the age-old gesture, a  kiss. On the mouth, it was gentle, barely enough to notice even if Jason were awake, but it didn't feel right. Roy couldn't explain it, but kissing Jason was somehow really mistaken. It wasn't because he was unconscious, Roy had gotten away with secret pecks in the early morning hours countless times and not felt anything remotely negative.  

He withdrew an inch, breaking their union, and absently gazing at the faint sprinkling of freckles on Jason's cheeks and the bridge of his nose while he cupped his face with one hand. 

 _Everything_ felt so wrong.


	7. Truest Mistake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Insomnia has been bad lately, but on the upside, I can spend the night writing to bug you guys with updates.

The Arkham Knight -  _Jason_ , he needed to be detained and returned to their dimension.  _That_ , Tim was 100% on board with. The man was a dangerous lunatic in some serious need of mental aid, which would be for the betterment of everyone.

It was Tim who reached out to Zatanna and because of that, she was able to help them conjure up a temporary portal to the place they tracked Jason to. Earth 52. The key word was  _temporary_ , unlike Jason, they didn't have an hour before they had to return, or risk causing a paradox. Whatever spell Zatanna had used, it wasn't stable but the time was enough to locate both of 52's Jason Todds. One was at an apartment with who appeared to be Roy Harper, so sue Tim for immediately deciding the Jason they traced to the very familiar abandoned wing of Arkham Asylum was the one they were after.  

Upon entering the decrepit building, practically falling to pieces under the lightest touch, Tim's first shock came from Jason's injured state. When they found him - for some reason, he thought Dick was Bruce (that annoyed Dick) - he was suffering some heavy blood leakage from a ragged wound splitting his side wide open. He was limping and by the extreme bruising circling his wrists, had clearly been restrained for hours, maybe  _days._ Those things considered, Tim would have argued the necessity of hitting Jason as hard as Dick did, but he also knew not to question his elder. Besides, from what he had seen, Jason fucking dangerous, no matter how beat up he was.  

But... he wasn't putting up a particular fight, not even when Dick dragged him back to his feet by his neck and struck him again, in the face. The solid whack of knuckles on flesh was gut-wrenching. Some nameless part of him didn't want to help, but Tim's training and loyalty to Batman screamed out louder demands, deafening the smaller voice when by instinct, he leapt behind Jason and hooked his arms to the sides with his own, holding him against his will while Dick pummelled him with punch after punch. 

The steady, near rhythmic whack, whack, whack reached a point where it sounded like a monstrous heartbeat that's chorus they were all trapped in. Jason yanked at his limbs, struggled to get free and subsequently, Tim held onto him harder, trying not to hear his yelps of pain. Tim was no Arkham Knight sympathiser, but he didn't enjoy one Robin having to beat the living daylights out of another. 

Because like Dick had said, whatever he did from the point of arrival, was  _necessary_. 

Then Jason kicked Dick hard enough to throw them all back, which is when Tim saw  _it_. Although drying blood and dirt covered the left side of his face, up close it was clear to see that nowhere on his cheek did the ugly brand form a J-shaped rise.

This..... was the  _wrong_  Jason Todd.

With the shocking revelation, Tim opened his mouth to yell at Dick to stop, only all his words crashed together and crumbled when Jason fucking elbowed him straight in the windpipe. The sudden burst of pain made him choke and gag, arms slipping free from around struggling man they'd mistaken for the Knight.  

By his fucking  _neck_ , Dick grabbed Jason before he could get away and in one heart-stopping moment where all Tim saw was the flash of the batarang in Dick's hand, he plunged it into Jason. The sound elicited was a difficult to describe one, a sort of crisp pop when the blade passed through Jason's taut skin and into his abdominal cavity, then the wet squelch of blood and guts. Jason screamed, tried to rip himself free of Dick's tyrannous grasp, even while the weapon stuck pointedly out of him, only he couldn't before he was stabbed again. And again. And again. And again, all in the space of seconds.

" No! Stop!" Tim  _wanted_  to yell at Dick, unable to get the damn words out his wounded throat in time. When he did, it's barely an audible rasp of the two letters, N and O, and  _far_  too late. Tim hadn't thought, not in his wildest dreams, that this was something he would ever witness Dick do. He wasn't aiming for non-lethal areas with the blade, those were  _kill shots._

Ashe stared in the utmost horror, lost in what he couldn't believe was happening, it occurred to Tim that Dick had  _never_  sworn to the same golden oath as Bruce, dawning the cowl before him.  _I_ ** _won't_**   _take another life._

" It didn't have to go like this,  _little wing,_ " Dick said, still holding Jason aloft like a mutt by its scruff, until he wasn't and Jason fell into a puddle - more like a lake - of his own blood.

"  _Your_  choice, not mine." He went on to say, a particularly cruel set of words he chose while he stood over Jason, no signs of remorse in his voice nor on his features, no slack of softening or twitch of distress.  _Nothing_. Tim didn't know which element of the current situation horrified him most, the wrong Jason - or Jason at all - bleeding out on the dirty asylum floor, or Dick behaving the likes of a nightmare.  _Joker_  would find this display disturbing. 

Tim came closer, steps cautious and....  _frightened_? Of  _Dick_? The stench of blood had never made him gag as powerfully as it did then, but maybe that was because he was looking down at the ghostly pale face of someone he knew as the former Robin, green eyes terrified and glistened with tears while his blueing lips moved to form incomprehensible words that came out as gasps and broken whimpers. His teeth were pink with the pulps of thick coppery sludge pumping up his throat. 

".... Either way, I am not leaving you prowling around our Gotham, or any other." 

Except this was  _his_  Gotham. This was where this Jason was from. This city, this universe. 

Tim wanted to fall onto his knees and quickly as he could, try to keep Jason's blood in his veins, but just by a glance he could tell there were ten, twelve, ( _thirteen_?) stab wounds, more than he could ever cover and an unspoken threat in Dick's demeanour warned him to not even try. Dick didn't need to tell him not to move an inch to help Jason, his body went rigid and unresponsive without his or Dick's sayso. 

Tim did  _not_  want to be the next Robin bleeding at the Bat's feet.

" D - Dick," Tim stammered when he could again find his voice, and the shot glare fired at him was as angry as ever before. Worse than the likes of anything Bruce could pull.

"  _Batman_. L - look at his face," he gestured to the cheek that  _should_  have born the mark they were so used to, that eternal reminder of failures past, the distinct lack of it was barely noticeable under the grime and dull gloom of the asylum's dark hallway. Jason's eyes had already fallen shut, that much was clear by the black lines his lashes had formed. The blood coming out his mouth was no longer bubbling with the breaths he was trying to take. 

Dick eyed Jason and the corner of his mouth twitched, and when Tim would have expected a more extreme reaction from him when their mistake came to light, he only said,

"  _Dammit_. We got the wrong one."

Tim gaped, looking stupid as fuck with his mouth forming an O, brows meeting with is hairline for tea with how far aback that comment took him. 

" Are you fucking kidding me?!" He exploded in his panic, throwing his arms apart wide.

" You  _stabbed_  him, Dick! That wasn't part -  _ah_!" Tim's volcanic eruption of sheer distress and outrage and anguish stunted with the abrupt crack of Dick's fist clopping him upside the head.  The shock itself hurt more than the blow, but that wasn't to say it didn't throb and pulsate underneath his skin when he stumbled, remaining on his feet just barely. 

 _Fuck_  that hurt.

Not realising he'd flinched, Tim opened his lids and blinked back the involuntary tears that pricked the corners of his eyes, hand already resting over the bruise he knew was going to form fast on his temple.

When he turned back to the others, recovering fast from the strike, Dick was kneeling by Jason's fallen form, two fingers pressed against the side of his neck, right by the mushy purple imprints of his fingertips. If he'd gotten a pulse, Tim could imagine him thrusting the batarang deep into Jason's heart, through his sternum to finish to the job, despite being made aware of the terrible mistake. 

" Is... _is_ he...?" Tim whispered as he crept closer, not wanting the answer to be confirmed as what was laid out so obviously before him. Jason was completely still, eyes closed, chest no longer rising and falling, litres of redness spread out vastly around him.   

" Dead." Dick finished when he rose, still lacking the human signs of remorse any sane person would have shown.  Jason's blood was still wet on his gauntlets, the batarang he wouldn't relinquish hold of, speckled across his crest and pink spots even covering the corner of his eye. By appearance, he felt nothing but apathy.

" Oh my  _god_." Tim whined brokenly, covering his mouth with a shaking hand while he stared in disbelief at what Dick had done. What  _they_  had done. They killed someone. They fucking  _killed_  someone - and not just anyone, another Robin. 

Dick didn't give Jason's body a second glance when he began walking away, checking the timer on the holographic computer built into his gauntlet as he did. 

" Time's up. We gotta go." He said, stepping past Tim and their shoulders grazed together. In turn, Tim sent a rapid glance to Jason, then to Dick's retreating back, again to Jason, and  _fuck_  if he wasn't gob-fucking-smacked. What does he do? Stay here because it felt wrong to walk away from their murder? Or go with since he couldn't actually do anything to help Jason - that window had passed - and furthermore, if he didn't move now, he could cause a paradox of potentially devastating proportion.  How their Jason hadn't caused one yet remained a mystery, but since two of him no longer existed in the same timeline, that risk was eliminated. 

Thanks to  _them_. 

Biting his lip hard enough to taste the metallic tang of blood, Tim sent one last unspoken sorrowful apology to Jason, one he meant wholeheartedly, and turned on his heel to jog after his predecessor.  _Jason's_  predecessor. 

 Once they found a more stable means to travel inter-dimensionally, Tim knew they would return to hunt the Arkham Knight down and he couldn't help but fear Dick would repeat what he did here. Tim didn't set out to do this with the intentions of what transpired, and it occurred to him to question, what was Bruce's true biggest mistake? 

What happened to Jason when he was captured?

Or leaving Dick to be his successor?

Unfortunately, he thought he would come to learn it soon. Like Dick had said, this world was about to be torn apart, but Tim was no longer sure who would bring the destruction.

* * *

 

Okay, Roy could admit it.  _Maybe_  he went a bit far with how many tranquillisers he administered to Jason without his knowledge, because he was still out of it come the next morning, and for him, that was a new world record.

Or then it wasn't the drug that Roy should hold responsible, and the reality that Jason was, indeed, exhausted out of his head. If he didn't know any better, he'd say his partner hadn't had a good night's sleep in the past five years.

Roy was unaccustomed to waking up to another body beside him - he and Jason slept together most nights,  _yes_ , but Jason was always up at the crack of dawn, hours before Roy even began to stir. He'd have had a shower, brushed his teeth, gotten dressed, made breakfast, and be in the middle of a case, about to crack it, when Roy dragged himself into the kitchen. So with that in mind, imagine his surprise when he woke up - on the couch - and Jason was still in a coma sleep to his right, head pillowed on his tattooed arm, eyes shut and encircled black. Roy's initial thought was that he woke up in the middle of the night, hence why Jason was still here, but the blaring digital numbers on his phone when he checked said otherwise. It was 10:23 am. It wasn't even unusual for Jason to still be sleeping at this point, it was unheard of.

When Roy moved a menial inch or so, propping his head upon his hand, Jason reflexively curled in on himself more, drawing his knees almost all the way to his chest until he was a tight ball, scrunching his features up, eyes squeezing shut ever tighter. Tentatively, Roy stretched out his arm and brushed black bangs aside, out his partner's face. Last night's dreadful sense of forebode still lingered in the air, but it has lessened to the point where Roy felt like he could again breathe, be it small shallow breaths.

And then he remembered every one of his startling and disturbing discoveries. Zsasz, the blood, all of it, and behold, the noose pulled tight once more. Despite its metaphorical nature, Roy could feel it strain when he swallowed. 

He felt around, under the comforter, and found Jason's hand and the bandaging wrapped around it. When he smashed the bathroom mirror last night in his episode, the shards of glass had cut him and though not bad, Roy had felt the gauze was necessary.  

" Dammit, Jay." Roy muttered, not sure what he was cursing when he leaned in and planted a tiny kiss onto Jason's forehead. Then the corner of his eye, lower down the length of his cheek, the cut line of his jaw, then finally, his lips. What he had felt before, that sense of wronging someone, Roy hadn't managed to shake it yet, and he was probably only kissing Jason to check if he had. And when realising he had not, he quietly exhaled through his nose while he let his head drop and lean back against Jason's, not caring how his boyfriend's hair felt scratchy against his face.  

Roy tightened his arms around Jason, caging him, fully knowing that it was already early afternoon and he should really get up, but he closed his eyes against the glare of early winter's sunlight and prayed for more sleep. And if sleep didn't come, then he wanted to savour this first bit of relative normalcy in a five-day streak. Or was it six now?

And then knock  _fucking_  knock, someone was at the door. The duo of soft but efficient taps tore through Roy's haze of drowsiness, a startling reminder that checked him back into reality, be it begrudgingly. He groaned through his teeth and nestled closer against Jason and the solid warmth radiating off his body, hoping the unwanted guest would think no one was home and just bugger off. Roy wasn't in any mood to see anyone today. He didn't want to talk to people who weren't Jason. 

_Knock, knock._

The person wasn't fucking off, kept persisting, despite how obvious Roy thought he had made it that he didn't want company. Huffing when he realised release wasn't coming, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the couch, grateful he had chosen to sandwich Jason between himself and the backrest, it made getting back onto his feet ways easier.   

Roy rearranged the comforter around his sleeping partner, tucking it carefully around his shoulders before he made any move to answer the door. The incidents and things he'd found the previous night played on his mind with every step he took, while he stretched his arms and muffled a yawn against his fist. A night spent on the hard couch, twisted like a pretzel around his boyfriend, meant his back had some crickety complaints to voice.

When he did open the door, words couldn't describe the horror he felt in the pit of his stomach, when it was revealed to be none other the notoriously chatty, clingy, prone-to-surprise-visits, Dick Grayson, standing there with his hands rested on his hips and brows raised.

" Well, well, well," Dick said when Roy did eventually answer, blinking back tiredness and the thick haze that came with it. 

" He lives." 

Roy had totally forgotten Dick had promised to swing by the moment he got back from his off-earth mission, and by the fresh golden tan - courtesy of Kori's flaming hair, no doubt - flush on his already coloured skin, his return couldn't be more than hours old. Trust Dick to rush here before tending to his own visible tiredness, puffy circles darkening the space under his eyes, but he still looked happy the way  _only_  he could.

" Dammit, Dick." Roy sighed, coming off more annoyed than he felt while he automatically stepped aside to let his friend enter. 

" Don't you know what time it is?" He asked when Dick stepped past him and into the apartment. Making eye-contact, Dick motioned to his wristwatch with a pointed out index.

" Yeah, it's eleven am. It's practically evening already and you were still sleeping?"

Unamused, Roy watched him as he shut the door, quiet so as not to wake Jason. He was thoughtful like that, despite the fact that his boyfriend had been out of it for some ten hours. Nothing to do with the drug....

" Late night." He explained, for now, sparse for details.

Dick nodded, leading the way through the apartment he knew so well, as if Roy were the visitor and not the resident. He didn't take off his coat or anything, hands stuffed deep into his pockets and arms rigid from the bitter cold outside.  After spending weeks in Kori's warm red and orange aura, late autumn in Gotham could shellshock anyone. 

" Where's little wing?" 

" Living room. Asleep." Roy said, walking behind Dick and noticing whatever had happened on Tamaran with him and Kori, it had left him with a subtle limp. Neither said anything about it. Dick wasn't prone to complaining about his own injuries when there was someone he could put before them, which was always in his mind.

"  _Still_? Jesus, what did you two spend the night doing?"  Dick teased him with a wink and Roy felt the corners of his lips tug, though lacking for genuinity. He let Dick have that one, knowing full well that the instant he actually saw the state Jason was in, and spoke to him,  then the sparkle of merriment in his eyes would drain fast. Roy really hoped Jason wasn't gonna freak out like he did yesterday.

And the day before.

And the day before that.

And pretty much every day since the initial incident.

 _Goddamn_ , Jason hadn't been mentally well lately.

Dick sauntered down the short passage, steps light and a bit springy his limp aside,  and Roy swore that even when walking, Dick Grayson was dancing along to a tune everyone else was deaf to. How the fuck did someone stay so bubbly at all times?  There was some enchantment about him that no one was immune to, not Batman, not anyone. A man with a paralysed face would smile around him. 

Roy wanted to dwell in that strange comfort of Dick's presence as long as he could. But there were just some things that couldn't drown out.

" He lost it again last night."  Roy sighed when they entered the living room, side by side, their gazes both landing onto Jason, still completely out of it where he'd been left. On the edge of his peripheral vision, he saw Dick raise his inky black brows at the sight of his little brother. He understood why seeing Jason like this brought on the reaction. Roy himself got it every single time he would see his partner, asleep, looking so vulnerable with all his walls down, as opposed to the universally considered gunslinging nutjob,  _Red Hood._

" He snuck out - I dunno where he went - and when he came back,"  With a shrug and no words, Roy gestured to the black and purple blotches around his wrists and biceps, ugly reminders of how frigging  _hard_  Jason had actually _hit_ him. Dick's face was the picture of.... what was it the picture of? Surprise mixed in with a large dose of dismay and concern?  That aforementioned tan had whitened by several pallors. 

"  _Jay_  did that?" 

Roy nodded, biting the inside of his cheek because hell if he didn't need to add to Dick's mounting worries by revealing the spread wings of similar marks on his back. Those still throbbed like a bitch. 

" He let me go pretty fast." Roy quickly added like it justified everything. " Then he had some kind of.... mental _breakdown_? He just started panicking over nothing and yelling at the walls. He smashed the bathroom mirror."  

Happy-go-lucky him gone, Dick was grim, lips drawn into a tight thin line that matched the tension of his brow and made a move towards his brother. 

" How long?" He asked, and no explanation was needed for Roy to know he was asking if Jason managed to snap out of the attack fast, or if it took hours like the worst cases always did. They were all on the edge of their seat when Jason went catatonic on them.

It was an odd request, but Bruce had once caught Roy on patrol and told him to let him know when Jason got bad like that. Naturally, Roy had been too terrified by the legendary bat-glare to refuse, and whenever he would, without his partner's knowledge, pass the message on, by coincidence Batman would need Red Hood's help on a mission a few days later. He never took anyone else on those missions, not Damian and not Dick. Roy wasn't sure what they spoke about when they did that, or if they spoke at all, but he never missed out on the bit of light in Jason's eyes when he came home.

" Two - maybe three hours."  And maybe it was four. He wasn't counting. 

Dick took a knee by Jason and carded his hand through his hair, tufts of it sticking from between his parted fingers. He gazed at his little brother's face and it was clear just by looking at him, that something was wrong.  

" That's a new record." Stroking Jason's locks, Dick commented, displeasure evident in his tone. Roy hummed his agreement, arms behind his back and subtly rocking back and forth on his heels. He felt a knot of nervousness tightening in his gut because he was fairly sure he knew what his friend was gonna ask next. 

" Did you OD him on Valium? Why is he still knocked out?" 

" I, uh.... _roofied_ him." Roy was hesitant to admit, tilting his head down because all be damned, he couldn't meet those startlingly blue eyes at that moment. 

" You did  _what_?" Dick arched his brows again, that last part of his sentence extremely cut and a bit suspicious, even if he didn't mean it to come out that way. They'd been friends forever, they knew each other inside and out, but Roy understood where that defensiveness came from.  You try telling someone you drugged their little brother senseless and come by as 100% innocent. No matter how far back you two went, you couldn't. 

" He - he wasn't calming down. I found some tranquillisers in his utility belt and managed to get him to down it with a spliced drink." And that explanation sounded ever more sinister. But luckily, he could tell Dick accepted that as the reason.

" You know those tranqs he carries are meant for big guys like Bane and Bizarro, right?" 

" I...." Roy scrunched up his brow in mid-thought. " No, I didn't. I guess that explains why he's still asleep."

" Boy, does it ever." Dick said and blew his cheeks out, trying to imagine the number of shots a panicking Roy Harper would have given a panic-attacking Jason Todd. The likelihood that he was going to be out of it for a considerable while still was high, given how Roy hadn't considered a dosage reasonable with Jason's size. They were lucky that Roy didn't accidentally kill him, in all honesty.

Dick rose, his joints - gone stiff with the cold - cracked when he did, but he hardly cared for that when his hand slid back out of Jason's hair and fell to his side. He looked back to Roy and tried very hard not to focus on the bruises that covered his arms when he really didn't want to think about how he got them. Jason had physically harmed everyone he had ever met at least once, that was just a fact, but the idea that he would intentionally hurt Roy felt like a hot ember in his gut.

" I've been up for 72-hours now, Harps," Dick said to break the silence that had somehow formed between them. 

" How 'bout you make me a cup of coffee and we talk some more in the kitchen? I don't wanna wake little wing." 

" Sure." Roy agreed, turned on his heel, and motioned for Dick to follow. Without a further word, he did and couldn't deny, that feeling of being on the edge of a hurricane?

He felt it too. 

* * *

 

Not twenty minutes later, Dick found himself going over all of Roy's notes stowed on his laptop, the bloodwork and suspicious video footage, while the redhead brewed coffee, occasional soft clinks of ceramics the only sounds, say for the quiet whirr of life from the computer's inner mechanics.

When he was done, his frown could rival Bruce's never lifting one and not even that could describe how fucking confused he was as of now. He wished he'd stayed on Tamaran.

" So.... the blood is Jason's?"

" Yep." Roy nodded, back turned as he mixed sugar in with the coffee. The teaspoon went clink, clink, clink every time it hit the sides of the mug.

" But none of his wounds were bad enough to cause it?"

" Yep."

" And his clotting gel was used up... but he didn't use it?"

" Yep."

" And Victor Zsasz - Zsasz who is  _locked_  up in Arkham as we speak, was there that night?"

" Yep."

" And he was wearing some camo-bat armour with no idea where he got it?"

" Yep."

" And he can't remember certain things?"

" Yep."

" Including you, who he was fighting, and what happened?"

" Yep."

" And.... he keeps  _talking_  to himself?" 

" Yessir. That about sums it up." 

Exhaling deep, from the bottom of his lungs until they were emptied, Dick slouched forward and buried his face in his hands, the edge of the kitchen table burning as it pressed on his belly, but with all the other things to process, his buffering brain didn't register the dull pain. He heard the tiny sound of Roy setting a mug down next to him and move to the opposite side of the table. Dick mumbled a thank you and the chair scraped back, screeching when Roy pulled it out and sat,  _heavily_. 

They both dwelt in the silence for a second before either knew where to start. 

" I called Arkham last night." Roy said, hands wrapped around his coffee cup tight as it was his key to survival.

" Zsasz has been under supervised lockup for the past month. No way he was there that night."

" But he was. We both saw that clip." Dick replied and in no light, did any of this shit make sense. 

" I was gonna swing by the asylum later, to see if I can interrogate the mad fuck."  It was obvious that no part of Roy was looking forward to spending a moment in a room with the sociopath in question,  and Dick picked up on it lightning fast. He was always the self-sacrificing sort.

" You gotta stay with Jay." He said, downing a gulp of his scalding drink. " I'll go."

"  _Really_?" Roy lifted his head and with it, quirked his carroty brows. 

" Yeah," Dick bobbed his head with his best smile - which remained weak. He was so damn tired but the hustle never ends. " The staff are much more likely to let a bat associate talk to an inmate, anyways." 

"  Not untrue. Thanks, man. I owe you." That part was well and truly, as grateful as it was relieved. 

" No, you don't. What are friends for?" Other than interrogating dangerous murderers to get to the bottom of what the hell is wrong with your little brother.

" I know the side effects of being dunked in the Pit means he heals fast from pretty much anything, " Roy said, returning to the topic of the blood analysis.

" But not in hours when the blood splatter looked arterial, right? The only way I can think of that it's his and at the same time,  _not_ , is..."

Roy didn't hurry to finish the sentence it seemed he just started to muse, and though Dick waited a while for the conclusion to come out, eventually he had to push.

"  _Is_....?"

Roy smiled a nervous, unsure smile and brushed over his face with his fingers. He laughed a bit, humourlessly.

" Is that there's two of him -  _stupid_ , I know."

Dick regarded him with scepticism despite the fact that it was clear, Roy in no way believed what he just said.

" Gotham would be a burned out crater if there were two Jason Todds alive in it at once." Dick stated while he leeched off of the heat radiating from his mug.

" I guess..." Roy agreed, rubbing the back of his neck while he sent a glance towards the living room, wondering if Jason was  _still_  asleep or just incredibly quiet. Neither of those was particularly in character for him.

But then not a lot of things of late were.

" It's just..." Roy returned his gaze to the other and met his eyes.

" Like he's another person."

 

* * *

 

The last time Jason could remember when he actually slept well, was the time in Venezuela when he got caught in an arms smuggling barge explosion. He barely got away with his life but did crack his skull on the asphalt sidewalk hard enough to fracture it. He probably broke a number of other things too. 

Bobbing in and out of consciousness, he remembered a firm, strong hand wrapped around his forearm while he was dragged across the charred ground, away from harm. Even without the gruff,

_" Don't try dyin' on me again, boss."_

He would have known it was Slade who saved him because who else would? He was a mercenary, he did it to line his own pockets with money, Jason was aware, but under all the pain medications, he slept  _well_. No nightmares, solid hours, no pain. Just sweet, sweet dark oblivion. 

But that had been different to now.

Then he'd woken up cold and angry, ready to fight and burn the world down. The difference this time around was that he felt pleasantly warm, the soft tingly sort of warmth that hit you on every nerve ending. Rest, it actually seemed like he'd gotten some rest, even going without the paralysing night-terrors for a change.

Jason fucking _hated_ it and was quick to re-erect his walls. They were high and frozen, stone and iron, no entrance to his fortress within. And they were safe.

Jason felt like a corpse when he rose, slowly drawing himself upright and into a sitting position. Automatically, he spun his arm around a couple of times, resetting his shoulder with the few clicks and grinds of bone damaged years since settling back in place. He blinked back drowsiness, heavily, the dots connecting at a record slow pace. He stared at the wall mounted clock and foggily, the realization came that it was already after-fucking-noon.

How the hell had he slept so long? Jason's mind went back to everything he remembered about the night before. The escalated argument with Harper was about all that was clear because after that, it was all a blur of hyperventilation and contorted faces of the dead.

Jason lingered on that memory for a bit.

 _A panic attack,_  he deadpanned. He had those often but rarely of that magnitude, and never did they end without serious injury to someone. Scarecrow's fear toxins ain't got shit on how terrifying those episodes could get for everyone.

When he started to come around more, Jason noticed the soft comforter laying in a wrinkled mess around him and disgusted, violently hurled it off like it was an object of pure evil. It was then that it was gone, crumpled up in a heap on the other end of the couch, was that he noticed the tight white bandaging encasing his hand.

Jason stared at it for a spell, turning his hand in an examination when he spottily recalled smashing the bathroom mirror last night.

Harper.... Did this?  _After_  Jason hit him? Why the actual hell would he do that?

Jason was running a blank with that when he heard voices. No more than murmurs, coming from the room down the hall: the kitchen. Pricking his ears to listen, he heard his name come up a few times and recognised both voices but was in denial about one.

Definitely Harper with his Arizona drawl mixed in with the bit of Gothamite terms and slang he'd picked up. From Hood, no doubt.

The second.... The second was the voice that sent Jason's heart racing. Though audibly laboured, stressed, it was sing-songy and a tad emasculate, and those softer sounds were difficult to differentiate from the harder constant clusters.  It was similar to Catalan with some Slavic aspects that stretched Os a bit too far.

Jason didn't use to be able to distinguish a Romani accent so easily, not before he met Dick Grayson.  _Now_? Now the slightest hints of it plunged him into a vat of emotions too strong for words. Today, it was the suffocating sense of being cornered.  

It was quite the struggle of opposing alternative options. Should he go now, before Dick found him? Hope that Dick ignored him? He wouldn't. Dick never left him alone. In some ways, he was worse than the Joker.  

_**" Those are some strong words, Jason! You mean 'em?"** _

" Y - yes." Jason nodded his head one too many times, rising slowly without any actual idea of what he was gonna do. He didn't notice how badly he was shaking or why. He wasn't afraid, not of Bruce's special snowflake. Was he nervous? Worried? Or was it just his body's preparation for an inevitable beat down? God knew.

_**" But didn't the other you say he and Dickie-bird were snuggle buddies?"** _

" I lie, Joker." Jason whispered under his breath, quietly padding across the room to where he'd stashed his suit. He had his guns there, knives, explosives, any means of self-defence that his heart may dare to desire. 

" I lie a lot."

_**" Hmm... welp, at least make this interesting, eh, baby bird? You've been boring lately."** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry.


	8. The Only Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We start this chapter with a trip down memory lane, exploring why the hell AK-Jay and Dick hate each other so badly. Or, the first and last instances where they've clashed.

_" If Bruce were here-" Dick started, face ripe red as he screamed at the boy who needed to crane his neck back to look up at him, equally angry with his upper lip curled like a feral puppy dog flashing its teeth._

_" Bruce isn't fucking here!" The boy snapped, leering so fucking hard his screwed up facial muscles disgruntled his mask. His tiny hands were balled and his jaw set, coming right up into Dick's space without a tinge of hesitation. He was either brave or damn stupid._

_" Bruce left me in charge of you, I told you to watch the north exit - and you just went off on your own."_

_" The guy was getting away!" The boy wearing **his**  suit yelled, arms were thrown apart and his wind-whipped hair descending into a worse state of disarray with how flustered he was._

_" That doesn't fucking matter! You disobeyed a direct order-"_

_" Fuck you and **fuck**  your orders!" For such a runty child, it truly impressed Dick how much will for a fight he could fit into himself. But he wasn't so impressed that he didn't feel his anger bubbling near the point of no return, fists growing clenched in the struggle to keep them clipped to his sides._

_" Robin 2.0 doesn't take commands from the failed prototype." The kid instigated, features still scrunched up into a face of rage, but a smug half smirk teetered where it had no business. The amount of misplaced self-importance coming off the brat was enough to make Dick want to wring his scrawny neck._

_However, he wasn't going to break Robin's spine but before he could grab a firm hold of self-control, the sound of a harsh hand meeting flesh came out the moment Dick slapped him without place for a second thought, then followed by a yelp and the rapid stumbling of feet when the boy struggled to keep his footing._

_And all the world seemed to fall silent._

_Dick was speechless over what he had just done, shock and disbelief setting in bone deep as he stared at his raised hand for seconds before he met eyes with the boy. He was already covering the red mark, a mark large enough to take up half of his small face, the picture of surprise with his lips slightly parted and quivering the tiniest bit. He sniffed and blinked several times, suddenly the scared puppy._

_Dick wanted to say something but couldn't find the words, clamping his jaw shut audibly when he opened it to speak. He realised, he wasn't sorry._

_The kid did, however, recover from the strike fast. Admirably so. And all over again he looked angry. Dick barely braced himself before the rabid little monster lunged at him with an enraged scream. Dick didn't think furious child going for him, he reacted the way he would if it was the goddamn Joker charging him._

_He dodged the Robin-torpedo with the utmost ease and instinct was to make him level with the ground. Dick kicked him, kicked him hard in his side and a sickening hollow knock ensued the boy's body crashing onto the rooftop. He'd been doing this Robin thing for a few months, Dick had years of expertise and skill on him._

_The kid fumbled with his hands and scraped palms to pick himself up, spitting a glob of blood out the side of his mouth. He didn't look any calmer and sensing he was going to attack the second he regained his footing, Dick slammed his boot down on the little thing's back before he could rise, crushing him into the ground with a gasp turned groan. He was so weak it was pathetic when he gathered all his measly strength to try push against Dick's weight on him. He was getting nowhere and adorably, kept persisting._

_" Don't disobey your elders, Jason." Dick said, voice coming out colder than he'd ever heard it. But he meant what he was saying._

_" It'll get you killed one day." He pushed down harder, centring all his mass onto the smaller body underneath him, until he felt something shift a little and the boy gave a feeble whimpery auh. The runt wasn't so high on his horse now, was he?_

_Dick realised it then, that talking to Jason was ineffective. He was Gotham's embodiment, born and bred, the runt only understood violence as a means of discipline._

_Well, lucky for him Dick was an A-class teacher._

* * *

 

_" Bruce is dead because of you." Dick said, his voice cotton-soft and elusive to the undertones of accusation that poured from behind the whites of his mask. The way he spoke, it was like he was cooing a small child to bed, but Dick had always been like that, so delicate with his words that he could almost hide the blunt force of what he was saying behind it._

_" I - I didn't-" Jason tried but made a worse mess of his defences just by attempting to get them out there. As if his tongue was paralysed, it flopped around his mouth like a dead fish, only coming up with insensible sounds. Jason took another step back and sent a rapid glance over his shoulder, the edge of the roof was getting really close and if the half scuffle of hard treads on stone was any indication, then Dick was even closer._

_" Don't try to justify it, Jason, no one is buying your 'brainwashed tortured Robin' shtick." Dick let him know and came another two steps nearer, intentionally cornering Jason, here on the rooftop of Wayne Manor._

_" Dick, pl-please, I didn't kill him." Jason gave a small gasp when his back thudded into the chimney and a hollow knock went through his chest, reverberating through his bones and cold muscles. Soon, there was no more than a foot separating him and his would-be brother. Although he was a few inches taller than Dick and his shoulders broader by comparison, Jason felt bricked in, unable to get away, and afraid. Afraid of Batman? Or afraid of Dick Grayson? He didn't know which but both made him writhe inwardly. Dick hadn't always had that effect on him, but there was something different about him tonight. Something **angry**._

_" But you wanted to, **didn't** you? The Arkham Knight's end goal was to murder Batman. Don't you remember, Jason?" Dick asked him, unsettlingly gentle but insistent when he extended his hand and trapped Jason's chin between his thumb and index finger, and Jason, in no position to resist, stood in place and watched him, blue eyes shifting in unease over the other's face. He didn't know what comes next._

_" Didn't **you**  say that,  **Arkham Knight?** " He went on and this time, the lilt of some sinister small delight in his voice became apparent by the tug at the corner of his lips._

_An interlude of silence passed, short but not sweet, like the whole world had been muted by the rough hand of God._

_" ... **Yes**." Jason breathed, quiet, unwanting to admit it when it hadn't been so long ago that he was preaching the Bat's demise. He wanted to take it back. He wanted to take it all back and let Bruce help hi_ _m_ f _ix this, whatever this was anymore._

_" Bruce is gone, little wing. He left me in charge and it's expected of me to bring every member of the rogues' gallery to justice, including you. **But** ," That foot became an inch or less of distance, their breaths intertwining and while Jason's was unsteady, quivering on the inhales, there was something extremely unnerving about Dick and how confident he seemed. How suave he was._

_"..... I can make an exception." Dick tilted his head a few degrees and still holding Jason's chin, forced a kiss onto his mouth. Though not welcome, Jason didn't do anything to push him off, no matter how easy it would have been. He supposed he couldn't blame Dick for thinking 'the brainwashed, tortured Robin' was fair use._

_Dick kissed him intensely, harshly, but there was no passion of forbidden desires to it. This wasn't the vengeful up rise of repressed feelings finally coming to the surface. Nothing like that. But that still left Jason unsure as to what to call **this**. They were brothers, were they? Maybe in another life. Enemies? Jason didn't want to be, not anymore, but by the way Dick pressed and pulled against him, there didn't appear to be space for anything but._

_And yet, here Jason was, entertaining the thought that this, uncomfortable as it was, might be the only way to buy back Dick's trust, or at least something apart from his apathy._

_So Jason went and he responded, he kissed back, returning some of the pressure he was feeling, and even opened up his jaws for when the tip of Dick's tongue came hounding at his lips. Dick thrust his tongue in, **thrust** , uncaring for if his rough handling hurt the younger man. Fingers carded through Jason's hair - for a confused second he leaned into the touch-, only to curl and twist, wickedly, pulling out numerous strands. Jason winced, on instinct taking a step back and breaking their shared connection with a slimy pop._

_Jason barely gathered himself or his thoughts before **whack** , Dick whipped him across his brand with the back of his hand, leaving a stinging red mark in its wake. The blow was almost enough to make him lose his footing on a roof of perilous height. _

_Confused, startled, Jason cupped his throbbing cheek and his gaze flitted back to Dick, who looked so angry again. He lowered his raised arm and didn't bother coming near again, the corners of his lips twisted into a scowl replicated by the ripples formed on his brow. Deja-fucking-vu, much? Years gone by never changed shit._

_" You're not one of us Jason. Not after everything you've done."_

_That was true, they had both known it for a long time, but hearing it hurt worse than the slap itself. Finally, it was starting to become clear. Dick was only giving him the time of day so he could have a punching bag for his own nation of frustrations._

_" Yeah?" Jason bit back, hurt, defensive and there were tears pricking his eyes. Tears from the pain or the realisation? Shit, he woulda fucked Dick if it meant no longer being on the outside, but that option was scrubbed out of existence if all he wanted to do was fight._

_"I never wanted to be!"_

_Glaring, Dick's gaze narrowed to a fraction of its previous proportion, nothing but hatred, anger, bitterness seeping hot from behind the whites of his mask._

_"You never were."_

_Jason didn't hesitate to bust the bastard's face wide open. Should have shoved him off the damn roof too, but at that moment, Jason's emotions betrayed him and spilt from his eyes and he did not want to satisfy Dick with that sight._

_He ran. He ran to where all roads seemed to lead, Arkham Asylum._

* * *

 

Fuck Harper and fuck his cinnamon hot chocolate. Jason thought he had been warming up at least a few degrees to Hood's gingersnap, but then he found all his weapons were missing from his stash.  _Who_  could have taken them? Certainly not the only other person in the house at the time. The damn redhead wasn't  _quite_  as stupid as he looked if he'd taken them for everyone's good.

After that, despite how he could have ended it with his hands, Jason went against his nature.

_**" Boooooo! Boring!"** _

He did the most rational thing in his mind at that moment: found an inconspicuous way out of the apartment and made his return to the asylum to check on his double, all the while Joker hounded him, trying his best to chase away crumbs of remaining sanity. Joke's on the Joker, there weren't any left.

**_" Go back, Jason! Go back and kill Dickie!"_ **

Jason furrowed his brow, his jaw tightening against the irritating pain pounding mercilessly in his skull. Or was that just the rasp of Joker's breath?

He wasn't against killing Dick by any means, in all honesty, it sounded more enjoyable than a beat-the-Joker simulator, but he also wasn't sure he could actually  _beat_  Dick. Harper? Absolutely, especially since he didn't seem to like passing on any blows of his own. Maybe just because he was too much of a weakling to hurt his precious Jaybird.

But the man with eight years of training on him? That man who had no permanent injuries to hold him back and all of Batman's allies to back him up? That might be a bit more tricky and depending on how long he wanted to pose as Hood, even Jason knew he couldn't kill just anyone.  

_**" You can kill him, Jasey! You can! You're not lil' Robin no mo'!"** _

But speaking of Hood, Jason had dropped by the asylum every day since capturing him, say for last night, but surely that exception didn't mean he could have somehow gotten free? No, if he were free, Jason wouldn't still be impersonating him without a rain of hell. And still, he was a bit unsure.

He knew he couldn't keep Hood tied and drugged forever, especially not  _there_. 433 days later of that, not even the Arkham Knight would subject someone to that. Well, maybe a select few (Dick, Tim, Joker, Bruce, his parents, their parents, Dick again, etc.)  people but not himself. Not again. 

Then that also left the massive question, what was he going to do? He didn't want to go home. He  _didn't_. Dick had it out for him there, he was as good as dead if he was in the same universe as him. Bruce was dead there. There was no Roy (who he kept telling himself he hated), no Cassandra, nothing despite the freezing sheets of autumn rain and the title of what not to be. Everyone hated him there and although Jason had no all-consuming desire to be loved by anyone or thing, there was a certain element to not looking over his shoulder for former family that he liked. 

Hood probably didn't even appreciate small things like that.

If he wanted to remain here - and he did - then his only option would be to kill Hood. Jason had considered it already, many times, but always hit the painted white line someone laid down for him. 

_**" Killing Robins is fun, baby bird! It is! Try it!"** _

Jason's head was in a million places at once, entertaining a million scrambled ideas that none of had a foolproof outcome, when he entered the abandoned wing with its familiar cracked tile walls, dark corridors and earthen damp smell of decaying wood. And then there was that other smell that careered into him head on. It wasn't new or out of place here, some part of Arkham always bore this unsavoury rancid stench, but the moment he smelled it, Jason went on high alert. Fight mode.

Stale blood. Hours old, at least.

Jason was tense and on edge when he kicked more speed into himself and broke into a jog, then straight out running, transforming the pat-pat-pat of his boots on the floor to thunder. He suspected Hood had done something fucking stupid in his attempts to escape,  something no thought went into that summed up Jason Todd, until his eyes fell heavily on the body left laid out in the hall. Jason slammed his breaks on hard enough to skid, hard rubber soles eliciting a high-pitched squeak.

**_" Well dang it, this just went to a whole new level."_ **

Fuck.  _Fuck_ , that was Hood.  _Dead_. For the first minutes, Jason could do nought not to blatantly gape through his shock and disbelief. Hood's midriff was ripped up, guts peeking from the dark red holes, pushing to escape into fresh, free air. Bruises, bruises around his neck and his wrists, his arms, his face, fine breaks in his bones making up a number higher than Jason could count to. There was no way he would be anything but dead, there was so much blood, gallons of it flaky dry across the ground, but he _couldn't_ be dead. 

**_" But he issss!! Joy of joys, eh, baby?"_ **

This wasn't an accident, an escape gone wrong, this was fucking murder of the first-degree kind. Someone broke in here, where Jason had thought no one would find Hood, and put a knife through him. Right through him, many, _many_ times. Who? Why? When?!

One of those questions was answered when Jason spotted someone, watching from a cell down the hall. His heart froze and so did his body when peeking from between the bars was a pale face, scarred, uncaring of how obvious his presence was while he stared, curious as to what was unfolding. He had no care that he was still here, at the crime scene, and not high-tailing it away like any smart person would have done.

" Kill... kill... kill...."

Voice-catching in his throat, Jason saw nothing but solid red when he saw Victor Zsasz, a man notorious for butchering his victims. Butchering like what was done to his double. Like what was done to _him_.

_**" Get him, Jason! KILLLLLLLLLL him!"** _

Jason didn't need Joker's advice. Didn't need the voice to foreshadow his intentions. That speed he'd run here at? Well, that was nothing compared to how fast Jason bolted. He raced across half the space between him and Zsasz, lunged the rest, hands fitting so naturally around the man's throat. He gasped out of shock at how quick Jason was, or delight of the fight to come. There would be no fight, however, just Victor Zsasz and the Arkham Knight. 

Maybe Zsasz tried to hit Jason with his knife, maybe he tried it several times, and maybe he writhed and kicked and struggled, did everything he could to counter. Maybe he did all those things but Jason didn't recall it clearly, not past the explosive rage. 

**_"HAHAHHAHAHAHHHHAHHHAHAHAH!!!!"_ **

Jason kicked Zsasz, broke his ribs. Zsasz swung his knife at Jason's face, he lost the knife and use of that arm. Jason didn't remember where he picked the shard of glass up from, but he didn't miss out on how deep it went into the other man's body, red mist spraying out in a spectacular show that went well with the scream.  

Cracks of bone breaking, shrieks when insides became the opposite, it was like a symphony written in hell was playing and Jason didn't know when it ended, or if Zsasz ever fought back. There was nothing he could have done if he tried.  Jason was better than him, faster, stronger,  _angrier_ ,  no blows thrown actually making contact with him in his enraged frenzy. And if they did, he didn't feel it. 

He felt nothing outside his age-old companion, bloodlust.

Smack, smack, smack, smack, those punches were all coming back wet and without screams at this point. The hits never wavered in strength and the tingle of pain reverberating through Jason's hands was beginning to numb.

_**" Erm, Jason? I think he's dead, lad."** _

Jason didn't listen, didn't care, kept slamming his fists into Zsasz's broken, bruised face. Zsasz had stopped moving, looking double jointed in more than a few places with stabs to match in gruesomeness. He was either seeing his double's dead body or the ways Zsasz used to whip dull blades across his skin and muscle until drenched in his own blood, sweat and tears, he would beg for him to stop. And he wouldn't. 

No one stops before the clown sings.

"  _Rah-_!" A stomach-turning crunch broke crisply through the air, filled with the sounds fists on flesh, when under the inhumane strength behind the pummelling, part of Zsasz's face began to cave.  Everywhere was red and reeking of copper and death. Jason didn't stop. He _couldn't_ stop. 

_**" Jasey, dear one, you've well and truly kicked his bucket over."** _

Smack, smack, smack, smack, smack, smack.....

* * *

 

"  _Fuckit_! Dick, he's gone again!" 

Dick bolted to his feet when Roy exclaimed that from the living room, his chair scraping back faster than it could stay balanced, the crack of it not sounding before Dick had already sprinted out of the kitchen, lightning-fast to find a panicking redhead searching every inch and nook of the apartment when it was clear, his little brother wasn't here. His boots, his jacket, holsters and belts, _gone_. 

Roy was the picture, the pinnacle, of worry driving him nuts, going back and forth from room to room while he was already shouldering his quiver and closing the strap across his chest. He didn't care to put all his suit on, just his weapons on his back and his mask. The quiver wasn't even on properly, dangling too loosely around his torso.

" Fuck, where would he go?" Roy paced, stricken and biting his nails to nothing. Jason was the only person who could reduce the easy-going archer to this shaky mess and Dick often times wondered if Jason realised that at all.  

" Calm down, Roy." Dick told him, stopping his friend's pacing by lightly taking him by the shoulders, holding him at arm's length and making eye contact. Roy twitched and fidgeted with his hands, suffering every second he didn't know where his boyfriend was. Dick wanted to know just as badly, but also knew he had to treat this with a calm, rational mind.

Otherwise, he was no good to Roy, to Jason, or himself.

" Dick, he's ran off again! An - an' after that panic attack he had last night h-" Roy's breath hitched somewhere in the narrows of his throat.

"  _Roy_ ," Dick said firmly, " If you don't breathe, you're gonna be the one having a panic attack. Let some air in your brain so we can figure out where little wing went." 

Roy nodded forcefully, once, twice, thrice. 

" R -  _right_." Clearly a struggle, he pushed to enforce steady inhales and exhales on himself. Although Dick was fully aware there was something gravely wrong with Jason, he couldn't help a pang of annoyance towards him because fuck, he shouldn't be so out of this mind that he didn't see what his theatrics were doing to Roy. The poor guy was practically shivering he was so worried

" He - he took his holsters, right?" Roy asked, brain kicking back into the most functional minded version of himself. Already, without an answer, he was hurrying over to the case in the bedroom where Jason stored his equipment. Or some of it, at least, Dick knew on a factual level that his little brother had a gun or what-have-you under almost every floorboard and tabletop of this apartment. This place was so stocked full of unseen weaponry that one might think Jason was preparing for world war 3 (he probably was). There's a fine line between preparation and paranoia, however. Bruce and Jason alike were yet to find that line.

Dick didn't follow Roy into the bedroom - seemed like an invasion of privacy -, instead waited a few feet from it until what seemed like seconds later, the redhead was jogging back with a transponder in hand.

" I planted a tracker on his thigh holster-" interesting choice of location "- doesn't look like he's found it."

Dick took the device when it was offered, turning it in his hand to examine the screen. His brows rose when he saw where his brother was at. Good ole Arkham Asylum.

" Why the hell did he go there?" Dick demanded the wrong person, Roy, expecting him to have the answers when as of now, no one - probably Jason included - knew what Jason was thinking.

" I dunno, Dick." Roy confessed, grabbing the transponder back to himself as he headed for the door, Dick close in suit.

" But let's go pick Jaybird up before he does something dumb."

* * *

 

_**" You wanted to be him, now you can."** _

Jason didn't know what the fuck happened between him bashing Zsasz into nothing but shredded muscle, spilt guts and shards of pink bone, to the point where he was smashing the asylum floor with a bar he tore off one of the cage-like doors. The sharp cast-iron point was being furiously driven into the concrete, slammed until cracks began to form, growing bigger and bigger. Beads of sweat rolled down his brow and stung his eyes and the small cuts Zsasz had managed to leave behind, but he didn't notice that or the incredible strain his body was under, muscles screaming from being overworked so mercilessly, when he should have been more than used to it. 

But then, maybe it was Jason's fucked up head that was the problem and not his body? Seeing Hood -  _himself_  -  ripped open like this, like an animal did it,  it scrambled him up in ways he didn't understand. Torturous memories of nightmares past blared through the back of his mind with each pound of the bar cracking into the rock, a new one each time, all coming with the question, _what if?_ What if roles were reversed and that was him, dead a few feet away, hacked up like a Thanksgiving dinner? He didn't know what then but it fucking scared him. Death wasn't, however, the fear factor here. It was being dead,  _here_. Here inside the four walls that saw him broken. Worse than broken, destroyed. 

**_" Didn't you want to be him, little Jay? You are now! The only you in this universe!"_ **

Jason's shoulder - the forever injured one - was beginning to burn, dull and constant at first but it quickly blossomed into more intense spikes of pain. He ignored it and continued to pound the bar into the concrete.  The cracks were getting bigger. Soon, they would be big enough.

Something bad, something like terrible guilt picked and ate away at Jason. He kept on repeating to himself that he didn't care Hood was dead, but when inevitably he couldn't convince himself entirely, he told himself that Zsasz did is. Zsasz killed him. But while that was true, Jason was the one who hurt Hood so badly he couldn't fight to his full prowess and it was Jason who left him roped and drugged here, where he shouldn't have been vulnerable but was.

Jason stripped away his doppelganger's defences, exposing his weak points to anything with claws. And in Gotham, that was  _everything_. 

He'd never felt the mildest tinge of remorse over a death, not in his life. Not when he had his parents executed by Maroni and not when he had the Joker's head between his hands in the seconds before he broke his neck. He didn't feel it then so why the hell was it here now?  He was falling to pieces in his own head.

He himself had entertained the idea of murdering Hood, more than once, to full on take his place. Fuck, he'd tried to kill him on the first night they met,  _repeatedly_ , so why did this bear any effect on him? Damn sensory overload, he felt another panic attack coming on and he had to fight it. No one and nothing was here to help him down.

**_" It's because you're petrified of dying in this asylum! You always have been! You keep telling yourself it can't ever happen, you'll never let yourself be captured here again, but you did! You did it to yourself, pretty bird! Literally!"_ **

Jason raised the bar high above his head to deliver what he assumed would be the final blow, only to have it crash down with a piercing clang and a strangled cry that tore through his bared teeth when his fucking stupid shoulder decided to lock up in protest to being used. Breathing in tiny rapid gasps, Jason tried to lift his now deadweight arm and then to have it ache so badly around the socket that his damn fingers wouldn't move to regain the bar.

Fuck his useless body and its shortcomings. Even his physiology failed him when he most needed it.

Jason dropped down heavily onto his knees -fuck if it didn't hurt - with his mobile hand clawing until the broken concrete showed damp soil beneath. Slabs hurled aside, he kept raking earth back through his fingers like a madman (which he was), digging deeper and deeper for tens of minutes, until he had to climb back out of the hole he dug. He straightened then stood there, boots an inch over the edge, staring into the dark pit. It was a little over half a meter wide and around four feet deep, foreboding but sufficing. 

Next, he grabbed Hood by his forearm, barely wrapping his hand around with how fidgety he was, and started dragging him across the ground. All of this, what was happening, it shoved Jason out of any thought process he may have had and he probably hadn't processed any of this, not the tiny green glow around Hood's wounds, not the heat still radiating off him despite the absence of breath, not the fact that there were two sets of footprints through the dry blood, belonging to the  _killers_.

Jason didn't think deeper on the plural as he tossed Hood in with a thud when his body hit the bottom of the grave. Drained of all blood, his skin glowed eerily white with a lunar element. People got it wrong when they said death looked peaceful sleep. It didn't. It just looked like death. Dull filmed over eyes and greying skin and slack muscles, body useless with the absence of spirit. That's all death was in appearance.

That aside, Jason didn't -  _couldn't_  - look for long before he had dropped what little of Hood's equipment he hastily found, on top of him and was kicking the dirt over, concealing him and with it, the horrible crime.

There was an air of finality when the final slab of broken concrete returned into place, cutting Hood off from the world.

_" You wanted to be him. Now you are."_

Jason's head was in shambles by the time he shoved what was left of Zsasz into a crawl space and found one of the numerous water pipes going up the walls. He broke it, aged and rusted brass giving away without a fight, and watched the spray of cold water begin to wash away the red floor. Soon, he was sopping by the mist of artificial rain he wouldn't step out of, wet and heavy clothes sagging and sticking around him, but at least it meant the blood was washing off him.

Nothing was going through his head. He felt dead from the confusion and lack of understanding as to what the fuck he just cleaned up.

**_" Baby birdie's in shock..."_ **

* * *

 

" You hear that?" Roy asked and Dick cocked his head, pricking his ears to listen to the sound of water sloshing freely somewhere ahead, in the asylum's hallways. They met eyes and nodded, silent agreement to go in the way of the sound. In search of Jason, his tracker showing his location just up ahead, they rounded a corner into a passage dotted by cells on both sides.  

Roy notched an arrow on his faultlessly taught bowstring, not sure what he was going to encounter with Dick but the whatever it would be, it left the whole airspace around Arkham feeling dark and sinister. A restless, powerful unsettling twisted in Roy's stomach and he didn't know what it was. It was more than the fact of Jason's recent behaviour.  

It was more than he could see.

"  _Fuck._ " He heard Dick exclaim then try to shove it quietly under his breath. He was a few strides ahead and the first to see what Jason was doing in the cell. Or rather,  _not_  doing. He wasn't doing anything, nothing at all, just standing in the centre of what looked like a lake, staring as the ripples of movement flowed through it. He was completely wet, head to heels, positively soaking and he hadn't appeared to notice.  When they approached, careful to avoid startling him, Roy realised he stepped over a portion of the floor where it was split and cracked, odd but he thought nothing about it then. He stepped over the breaks without a second glance. 

" Little wing," Dick began, voice so incredibly soft and nurturing, stepping closer to Jason and Roy saw Jason tense up and instantly snap out of the mysterious dissociation he'd been in, not able to open his mouth to warn Dick before Jason had lashed out and kicked him into the wall. Crash, thud, gasp.

Cursing mentally, Roy dropped his bow loudly in the hurry to grab Jason when he lunged for Dick. 

" Don't fucking call me that!" Jason screamed at his brother, teary, raw with anger, trying to get his hands around Dick's throat to wrangle the life out him. Dick's face was the picture of shock, taken aback too far to immediately spring to his feet and block the solid whack of Jason's fist against his face. His head snapped back from the blow, an arch of blood flying behind.

" Jason!" Roy threw his arms around his partner, straddling him to the best of his abilities. Against the way he kicked and struggled and screamed at Roy to get off him in all kinds of profanities that would make a pirate cringe, Roy wrestled Jason to the ground, where they were a tangled mess of flailing limbs.

" Get the fuck off, you fucking worthless ginger fuck!" Jason shrieked at him and threw his weight this way and that, scratching long deep red lines into Roy wherever he could, and were it not for the arm he'd obviously dislocated, he would be home free long since.

" Calm the fuck down, Jay!" Dick yelled at him when he came to help, pinning Jason's legs into the ground to put an end to his kicking, pushing his hand flat and firm against his chest, not the most efficient way of restraint they all knew, but it was the only one they could get the raving man into. 

" I'll kill you, Dick!" Jason snapped his body upward, falling just short of headbutting Dick by Roy's strong arms encircling him, entrapping him. Like a lunatic, or like he was high of the Pit, Jason twisted any way he could, the two men laid out on him barely a weight enough to hold him in the madness overcome him.

" I'll fucking kill you!"  

If he were loose, neither Dick nor Roy doubted he would do what he said. There was so much untapped and wild rage in his eyes, angry storm blue, filled with a vortex of other mixed unnameable emotions. He continued screaming and thrashing, causing more than a few purple/black blotches on the flesh of the elder two, swearing he would slit both their throats. The things he was saying, it was tearing Roy up a little, the weight of the angry words showing in his eyes. 

Time melded into one massive uncountable period where they gripped him for a long while, maybe as long as hours, until his fighting began to die down to a manageable degree. Eventually, his writhing mildened to squirms that soon became nothing but small trembles.

" I wanted to be him.... now I am." Tuckered out from the tremendous outburst, Jason murmured to himself, as if an epiphany hit, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling, speckled with mould. Roy exchanged a worried glance with Dick -Dick's lip was bleeding-, neither of them having the foggiest of what Jason was rambling about. That's what this was, right? Just the meaningless, less-than-sane thoughts in Jason's head, spilling out?  No sense, no logic, no fact, nothing solid behind it. 

" I'm the only me." Jason whispered, oblivious to Dick and Roy rising, releasing him only when they were sure he had zero interest in moving. Or attacking. 

" Yeah, yeah you, are Jason." Assuring as ever, Dick soothed, hooking his arms beneath Jason's to hoist him back onto his feet with surprising strength, despite being the smaller of the two. Jason didn't seem to care about Dick's close quarters this time 'round, but it didn't look like he was even knowing of it. He was way too obligated with his latest madness to protest Dick's touch. 

" Dick, his arm-" Silently panting and breathless, Roy gestured to the slack limb uselessly dangling at Jason's side, visibly too elongated as it hung from its socket. It must have been somewhere near excruciating to have it so badly dislocated, but Jason kept holding a one-sided whisper conversation with either himself, or someone whose voice went unheard by the other two.

Roy didn't know which was more disturbing. 

At Roy's word, Dick quickly examined his little brother's wounded arm, but made no move to reset it. It would have been easy, but it  - somehow - wasn't causing Jason any unbearable pain and they couldn't say for a fact, that Jason wasn't going to go off the rails at them again. If that came to pass, taking him down would easier if they had a clear advantage.

They'd reset it for him later.

" Let's head back, Roy. He needs.... something. Medical attention." Dick told him, sliding his arm around Jason's midriff to balance him and again, he didn't say anything even if he did notice, continued to hold the floor captive in a vacant stare. Roy traced his gaze to the smashed concrete. What was he looking at?

" Let's." Roy nodded sceptically, about to follow them as they slowly made their way out, Dick in the lead, when he noticed something he hadn't before in the mad struggling, laid out on the age-old table residing in the furthest corner of the cell. A splash of bold red on grey caught his attention and he approached, slowly, tentatively, this time not noticing the cracked slabs of stone he walked over.

Soaked in days old blood and torn up by what looked like a knife, there was Jason's kevlar bodysuit, crimson bat blaring threateningly from the space between the shoulders. Hands trembling - he didn't know why -, Roy picked it up, carefully holding the garment. It smelled like Jason, like the cool mint of his aftershave and smoke of the last explosion he leapt out of, but also reeked of a mix of metals and cold sweat, burned material and  _pain_. Upon closer inspection, turning it slightly revealed stinged patches and a ragged tear down one of the arms, the puncture going all the way through. The blood had soaked most deeply into that area. Arterial..... 

Clean cut slashes ran along both sides of it, making it easy for whoever hurt Jason, to remove it without having to go through the hazardous security measures and locks. With any ordinary blade, the alarms on this would have been triggered, sending a signal to both the Bat Cave and to Roy, telling them to get the hell to Jason's location, because he was seriously fucked. 

But no signal ever came through.

He could tell the taser built into the suit had been tampered with, converted it seemed, into the source of another electrical current. What the fuck had this been used for?  There were cables here and crocodile clips, like the ones used to transmit a charge into a car needing a jump start. It looked like this place had been used to torture someone.  

Roy took to puzzled note that the cuts and blood splatters on the suit didn't match the ones on Jason's body....  

.... What the actual fuck was going on? It was like his entire world had upped and gotten on a moving stairway because this just kept escalating. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If a greater wave shall fall, and fall upon us all, then between the sand and stone, could you make it on your own??
> 
> This ^^ this has nothing to do with anything. It's just there, don't mind it.


	9. We Got The Wrong One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, friends. We've got a shorter chapter today, I hope that's okay. BTW, I did not get the time to proof-read this properly, so if you spot any mistakes, please let me know :)
> 
> Take a breath. Now take another. Brace yourself.

_Jason was done. He was done screaming no and fighting when every Friday since his capture, Joker would whip his dick out his purple suit pants and mount him like a bitch in heat. His favourite position was twisting one of Jason's arms behind his back, while his spare hand would be firmly slotted under Jason's chin, pulling back until his spine was bent into a painful arch. The thrusts felt like he was being impaled by a steel rod that had no place in his body. It's not that Joker was particularly big, but the way he knew exactly what strings to pull on made everything a thousand fold more agonising._

_One string that laid to waste specifically bad damage was Joker playing recorded footage of Batman's and the new Robin's escapades, all while Jason wore the fading, blood-stained uniform that should have still tied him to the position. Instead of fighting back waves of crime with Batman, Jason was fighting to breathe past the sobs while he was made to have sex with the Joker. Insult to injury, Joker wasn't particularly rough, not considering the nature of what he was doing. If anything, it was how gently - intimately even -  he went about raping Jason that was the real fucking punchline._

_The one faithful Friday afternoon, to Jason's utmost surprise, no heavy tears rolled over his lashline, not with the aching numbness that he'd noticed over the months to be forming inside him, creating a chrysalis around his heart and mind, maybe the body's self-preservation mechanism. Well, too fucking late. There was nothing left that it could do for him._

_There was a routine to this. Always Friday, Joker would untie him, undress him, and have his fun, but right before he finished, the clown would pull out and turn Jason around. Jason knew the drill, he knew what was expected of him, so he didn't need to be told to get on his knees and finish the job with his mouth._

_Jason had bitten Joker before, hard, but the yelp of pain he received hadn't been worth getting his arm smashed with a fire extinguisher. It was another few months before he could even close his hand into a fist - but it never stopped hurting - and it was an A1 reminder to do his job, because if he did it right, he'd be spared beatings for the rest of the day. That promise alone made Jason very eager to do his best not to vomit when he took the clown's cock down his throat._

_" Pretty bird..." he'd coo, always with a new sweet pet name for Jason like actual thought went into these sessions. Baby bird, little bird, Jasey, Jaylin, Jay-sonny, Darling Robin, dear one, Jay-lad (that one was especially bad because it used to be what Bruce called him), the list went on._

_Joker liked him to swallow down every last drop of salty sweet cum, cup his face on both sides, gloves cruelly soft against his cheeks, and watch him struggle to gulp everything down and not spill a drop. Pathetic, disgusting, Jason felt worse than he ever had by admitting to himself that starved as he was, he needed these calories. He fucking needed clown jizz in his system to scrape by._

_And it wasn't even that rich in protein. As if that was the biggest indignancy here._

_The biggest indignancy was probably the fact that at one point or another, he began to like the rub of the clown's dick inside him because that's what he began to associate with kindness. Joker fucked him in more ways than one. He began to look forward to Fridays, the lack of beatings was worth everything that came with it. Literally and figuratively._

* * *

 

It was memories like the one recalling how he got his arm permanently damaged that sprung back and clamouring into Jason's head, unwelcome and unrequested, whenever the slightest trigger presented itself. And lo and behold, today the triggers were neither slight nor singletons. 

_**" Those were the good days, Jaybee. Reminiscence is such sweet sorrow...."** _

It was Friday, a beautiful example of a crisp autumn Day of Frigg if ever there was one. The sky was blue without a wisp of feathery cloud, the sun was shining like a brilliantly polished orb of gold, his shoulder burned like the fucking fires of hell when Roy reset it.... 

A damp sticky pop ensued Roy's sharp upward shove of his limb, the balled bone snapping back into the faultlessly smooth socket but easy as it was, Jason couldn't help the pained gasp when it happened. The searing twinge nipping and pulling at his ligaments seemed somehow more unbearable than it ever had been. Was that just because he still couldn't wrap his head around all that had happened?

" Sorry, babe." Roy said, pretty green eyes truly apologetic for hurting Jason and to Jason, that was _extremely_ odd, considering he'd thrown Roy into walls and punched and kicked and scratched him so many times already. Was love dumb as well as blind? Well, blind to the fact that his boyfriend was no longer alive and in fact, being impersonated by his murderous doppelganger from an alternate universe. 

Jason murmured something akin to a _thank you_ when he tested his fingers, opening and closing and flexing them to the best of his newly located abilities. Sensation to his hand was beginning to return with a warm tingling. 

" Lemme go grab a sling for that, 'kay, Jay?" Roy took a step back and eyed him with what Jason barely recognised as  _concern_. Really? Still he was worried about Jason's well being? After all the times he'd sworn - and  _tried_  - to kill him in the past week. Jason was responsible for 97% of the bruises currently on his body.

Not to mention, Jason indirectly had his real boyfriend murdered, then proceeded to cover the whole thing up....

No matter how he tried not to dwell on it, the image of Hood's bloodied and cut up corpse came to haunt him with every blink.

**_" Can't blame anyone for this but you, can you, pretty bird? It's weird this - this alien sense of not being able to hold everyone around you accountable for what happened to you. It's so alien it just hopped off express Mars!"_ **

" Hang on, honey. Be right back." Roy said to Jason and as he left, Jason glanced over to where Dick was, sitting on the edge of the couch, holding an ice pack to the swollen and discoloured side of his face. Looking pretty miserable, his eyes flitted to Jason the moment he realised he was being watched, and that came a lot sooner than Jason had expected.  

Blue on blue met, shades differing by a few pallors alone, a startlingly steely connection they formed from across the room. Steely but quiet. Dick didn't say or do anything to advance Jason, showing no interest or the slightest of recollection concerning that kiss they'd shared, or the words that came along with it. He was, in fact, so damn silent that Jason was about to demand why the fuck he was playing dumb. Could he not give Jason so much as to admit, that for a second, Dick had actually  _wanted_  him? 

And then it occurred to him that this was not the same Dick who'd busted his ribs when he was fifteen and hid it from Bruce with a made-up surprise attack and plenty of threats toward Jason to keep his mouth shut concerning the true culprit. 

Hood had probably never kissed Dick. Or  _been_  kissed by Dick. 

...... Why the actual fuck did Hood have it all so much better? What, he got whacked over the head with a crowbar once, then died, then magically came back, and proceeded to  _not_  have to make out with his older brother for something he didn't get?   

While Jason lingered on those thoughts, he momentarily didn't feel bad at all that Hood was now dead, until he did again because that was still  _him_ , laying cold under the asylum where no one would ever find him. Cold where no one cared.

**_" Worst nightmares come to life, Jason...?"_ **

He came out of his mind with a start when he realised Dick had risen and was closer than he'd been before, the icepack still in his hands. The frozen exterior crinkled when he absently scratched flaky bits of frost off it. He raised his gaze off it and met with Jason's.

" Jay," he said, and a calm slow breath escaped with that. It looked like there was something he wanted to say but couldn't, something more important than what he asked,

" How's your arm?"  

" Fine." Jason grumbled, huffed more like it, taking a step back from Dick just to maintain some level of comfortableness. Unlike on the roof and pretty much any time they were ever alone, Dick kept a respectful distance when he noticed Jason didn't want to have him near.

Thus far, Dick didn't seem that monstrous, but he also wasn't making any decisions based on sheerly how he behaved when it was Jason, him,  _and_  Roy because Dick's facade only let up one-on-one. He bet it wouldn't be long until true colours shone from beneath the thick layers of lies.

Dick watched him through a gaze laden heavily with perturbance, eyes spending just seconds on Jason's wounded shoulder and undoubtedly asking himself how it was dislocated as badly as it was in the short time Jason was unsupervised for. Funny story, he was digging a grave for the man they thought he was.

" Jason...." Dick began what sounded like a new topic. " You... hurt Roy. More than once. You remember that?" 

_**" Why wouldn't you? It wasn't that long ago and it was fun, fun, fun! Bruises on freckles is my new favourite colour!"** _

"  _Why_?" Jason demanded, sceptical and defensive for reasons his 'brother' was entirely responsible for. Close as he was, Jason kept expecting to have to jump out of his reach at any minute when he inevitably went for him. 

" 'Cause it looks like there's a lot you don't remember."

" Says the guy who turns full on Jekyll and Hyde whenever Bruce isn't looking." He snapped back without the consideration that this reference likely didn't mean anything to this Dick. 

Dick parted his lips to speak, but his brain refused to work together with his mouth and his jaws clamped shut soon, running a blank. He looked so confused it was almost adorable. Jason wondered if that's what he'd looked like when Dick was kissing him then slapping him in the space of a second. 

" Jay - Jason, I don't  know what you're talking about." 

" You never did. The convenience of ignorance, eh? It's not wrong if you don't know what you're doing,  _right_?" Jason came off as insistent as he forced the question. By god, did he want this bastard for some answers to the shit he'd done over the years, even if this particular Richard Grayson didn't have those answers. 

 _**" Oh boy, wouldn't it be fun to smash his face in? That pretty, pretty, pretty face that daddy always preferred to you? That** _ _**she** _ **_preferred to you?"_ **

" It would..." Picturing it, the broken delicate facial bones and exposed grey matter, Jason agreed with the clown despite the rise in Dick's brows at him addressing the voice in his head. So now he had an interest in the fact that Jason often conversed with Joker while he had an audience...?

" Erm, little wing? Who are you....?"

" Can someone get the door?" Roy asked, returning with odd tidbits of medical equipment to snap Jason and Dick alike from their shared staredown, to realise someone had been knocking at the door for God knows how long. Small, gentle knocks, like a child was on the other side. Dick agreed to get it with a nod and while Roy fumbled Jason's arm into a sling, went to open.

No sooner had he clicked the lock that a massive force careered into the surface of the door, throwing it wide open. Dick barely jumped back, out of its path when it banged twice into the wall and a storm-faced ten-year-old marched in, small face and smaller features screwed up into the angriest scowl ever witnessed by mankind. His clenched fists were a warning, his presence here a death certificate.

"  _TODD-_!" Damian screamed, no sooner getting confused looks from everyone in the room that he broke into a run that ended with a flying kick to Jason's chest. Yelping, Jason was thrown completely off his feet with the tiny ball of fury landing on him.

" How could you worry Father like this?! That he would-?!"

Arms raised to pummel him with blows  Roy's hands shot out and enveloped Damian's thin wrists, hauling him off Jason. 

" The fuck, _Damian_?" Roy angrily demanded, usually not minding of Damian's behavioural difficulties but today,  _no_. Just no.  Not with all the shit he was dealing with.

" Release me, Harper!" Damian kicked, about to make Roy's intact nose a thing of the past when Dick seized him in a hold that looked more like a hug intended to keep everyone else safe from him. Damian liked Dick, he wouldn't hurt him, but that didn't mean he was going to keep profanities to himself.

"  _Damian_." A stern, gravelly voice said, followed by a tall man dressed in a smart crisp suit ironed to perfection, stepping into the apartment through the open doorway. He looked hella tired with a fuse burning dangerously close to nil, one glance at his son enough to cease the boy's fighting. He fell motionless into Dick's embrace, no longer having anything to say. He still looked stroppy, though. 

" Bruce," Roy said, slightly surprised as he helped Jason off the floor. His partner's eyes went from the shock of Damian's spontaneous appearance to wide with horror at seeing his father. His lower lip trembled slightly and all colour drained from his face. He looked  _scared_.

The Jason Roy knew was  _not_  afraid of Bruce or Batman. _Hmm_....

" You're back a little early." Glancing away from Jason, Roy observed, but was not ungrateful  that Bruce was now here. The man must have caught wind of Jason's recent problems - from Alfred, no doubt, hence why he came to their apartment.  Bruce rarely did house calls, which meant his hidden concerns must be serious. Good lord, did they have reason to be.

" He cut the mission short because of Todd! We almost-"

"  _Damian Tomas Wayne_." Bruce repeated himself, less pleased than the last time. Pouting like the small child he was, Damian took the hint to keep his opinions to himself and proceeded to make no effort to escape Dick's prison of arms. He seemed comfortable there, despite the manifestation of all things dark and murderous he wore on his face.

Sighing, unimpressed, Bruce took one look at the black eye and split lip his eldest was sporting, the big blotchy bruises visible on Roy's biceps and thin fading red line across his throat, and finally the graze plaster over Jason's cheek and the sling that supported his arm, and knew a small hell had burst open in his city while he was gone. Goddammit, he'd left for a few days. 

But _damn_ , Alfred had been right about him needing to get back to Gotham, asap. Especially if everything he said about Jason's predicament was true. And why wouldn't it be? Alfred neither lied nor exaggerated the truth.

" B, you're back." Dick said, smiling brightly past his slip lip and hell, if he didn't look relieved. That sort of relief that lights up in the eyes of an older brother when their parent comes home to save them from a misbehaving sibling.

" Did you have to cut the mission short?" 

" No. It was a dead-end lead." Bruce replied to Dick. " We wouldn't have accomplished anything there, no matter how long we spent."

The Romani glanced down at the child he was holding. " But Damian-"

" Is sulking because of a parent-teacher meeting tomorrow, concerning the cow he tried to take to class with him." Bruce explained and ignored the green-eyes of the ten-year-old snapping a glare to him. Damian could not explain that incident away logically no matter how he tried. 

" Alfred said Jason -" Falling silent, Bruce looked at the space between Dick and Roy that Jason had occupied, keyword  _had_. He was now gone without anyone hearing or seeing a thing, leading his gaze to travel to the kitchen window, visible through the open door, curtains billowing in the wind. There was a fire escape drilled into the window underneath the wall, one that lead to an alley with tens of paths to disappear down. 

Realising what had happened, Roy exhaled slowly through his nostrils and raised his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, white-knuckled and wrist shaking, eyes closing. The man looked  _done_.

Dismayed over the tango starting again, Dick made a move to presumably follow - Damian still dangling from his arms-, but Bruce stopped him with a hand planted on his shoulder.

" I'll go after him." He grunted, already following pace in the direction Jason had gone so silently yet so fast. He needed to get to the bottom of this behaviour, which just seconds in, he could tell was not his son's.

Part of Bruce was already wishing he'd worn running shoes today. Call him crazy, he thinks he might need them.

* * *

 

Tim jolted awake, a jolt so violent it shook the bed. Shaky inhale, shaky exhale, repeat. Bolt upright without his command, he blinked back the darkness, panting heavily and the  _thump-thump-thump_  in his chest was deafening,  _aggressive,_ trying to break his ribcage. 

 **_" It didn't have to go like this, little wing._ ** **_ Your _ ** **_choice, not mine."_ **

_Fuck! Fuck, you weren't fast enough! You didn't stop him!_

With his hand, he muffled a whimpery sob when the image of the batarang being plunged into Jason came back, the pained scream seemingly right next to his ear, just as vivid as when it happened. He saw it whenever he blinked and felt the spray of blood speckled warm across his face no matter how many showers he took. 

He kept seeing  _all_  of it. Jason's eyes had been hollow,  _icy_ , deep like a well that didn't have an ending. Tim knew that look well because he had seen it so many times. It was the way everyone looked when it dawned on them that they were going to die. It was fear, the purest form it. It was the pain of betrayal, when a man stabs his brother to death. 

Only, they weren't brothers. Dick made it clear whenever he could.

The overbearing stench of mixed metals rushed to flood the pitch dark bedroom, fresh from the veins, but Tim kept repeating to himself that it wasn't real, only the morbid way his conscious made him relive what he and Dick had done. If he'd noticed the mistake faster, or  _something_ , he could have saved Jason. 

If he'd done anything more than he had, maybe Jason wouldn't have bled to death in the place he was terrified of. 

Tim went over it, so many times, frozen frame by frozen frame, trying to pinpoint each of his errors that lead to it and trying for every possibility that showed itself to him, to change the course of the incident. And at the end of each thought, between every word and syllable, was the uncaring, cold way Dick realised the man he murdered wasn't the one he was looking for. 

But Jason was still the boy who'd given his life for what Dick started.

And Dick could care less. The karma for giving your life for something you believed in was a knife to the gut. 

When Tim looked down at his hands, palms clammy and shaking, he swore they were streaked in bubbly crimson, even when seconds later the colour had gone and it was just his skin staring back at him. 

".... Tim?" A sleepy, slightly disoriented Barbara asked as she propped herself up on her elbows, peering at her boyfriend through eyes narrowed from tiredness. Her burnt-sunset red hair was frizzy and stabbing the air at odd angles despite the loose ponytail holding it together. Glancing at her from the corner of his vision, Tim couldn't look at her for long, not with how the intense hue of her locks matched Jason's blood.

The slaughter scene flashed past his mind's eye again with the subtle reminder of what he couldn't forget.

" I didn't mean to wake you, Babs." Groaning, Tim said, running his hands across his face and expecting his fingers to card through the long black tresses of his hair, only to come upon rough cropped strands sticking up from his head. He was still getting used to wearing his hair with barely an inch of length, no matter how long it had been since he took the clippers to himself. This way, at least, Dick would have less of a handle to grab hold of when he got pissed. Nowadays, he resorted to a good strong stranglehold that made Tim wonder if he'd actually helped himself with the haircut. 

" Nightmare?" Barbara tenderly asked, sitting up straighter and peering at him, their soft white blanket falling in crumpled folds around her thin middle. 

Tim swallowed, looking away, towards the dark doorway leading into the passage outside. 

" Yeah." He admitted. Waking up, unfortunately, did not end the nightmare he was now existing in. Barbara didn't know about what had happened, Tim couldn't bring himself to tell her with all the ways she would look at him differently going through his head. She, like himself, didn't agree with what the Arkham Knight had been doing, what he was, but Tim didn't think Jason had to die when he so obviously wasn't right upstairs. After everything that the villains of Gotham had done to him during his capture, he was sick. 

He was as much a victim as anyone else, and now Dick wanted to kill him. 

" Wanna talk about it?" Barbara inquired softly when laying her warm hand over his cold one, fingers curling lightly for that bit of comfort Tim didn't think for one moment, he deserved. Not after.... _it_. 

" No." Tim lied because hell, he was bursting to get some of this off his chest. This was not the first murder he'd witnessed at Dick's hand, but it hit the fucking hardest. 

Dick ran the blade through Jason without a second of hesitation.  _Jason_ , another Robin. Dick had threatened to kill Tim before if he didn't play along to his cover-ups or some shit like that, but he'd always held onto the tiny crumb of hope that he  _couldn't_. That he  _wouldn't_.

Tim was no longer dumb enough to possess that crumb. 

" Did something happen on the mission to earth 52?" That much, Barbara did know. She knew they were looking for the Arkham Knight in the alternate universe he'd somehow escaped to, but not that Dick stabbed his innocent counterpart. Innocent to their Jason's crimes, that is. 

Tim bit into the lip he'd already made a ragged mess of with his teeth, hesitating on how much he could tell her. Barbara sensed something was pressing heavily on his heart and he was well aware of that. He didn't like lying to her but he liked her in the eye of Dick's rifle of consequences even less, because that's where the details of their mission would land her. 

 _Fuck_  Dick.

" Nothing noteworthy." Tim said when he finally turned back to her. Damn, she looked so concerned and caring at once, not knowing the man she loved so deeply was responsible for such awful things. It twisted the invisible knife of guilt in Tim's stomach, screwing it in deeper than before.

" Just - I'm just a bit scatter-brained after the dimension skip. Zatanna said it may be a side effect." He half-lied. 

" I see." Nodding slowly, she pursed her lips, thoughtful. Without her glasses, the crinkles of a frown showed clearly on her forehead. 

" That shouldn't happen again. Didn't Dick say he was confident he'd found a more stable means of inter-dimensional travel?"

Oh God, he had. A method, he'd said, that would grant them all the time they needed without the risk of paradoxes. Fuck, fuck, fuck, Tim hoped and prayed Jason would have to good sense to run as far from Gotham as he could and hide. He wouldn't, though. He was somewhat of a stubborn sort and while thus far, that was the driving force that had kept him alive, it may come to backfire on him pretty darn fast.

" Yeah..... That's what he says." 

" Good." Barbara nodded, laying carefully back down flat on her back, her weight barely causing a depression on the surface of the firm mattress.  Tim watched her, yearning to join but something kept him back. Oh, that's right, he wasn't deserving of anything akin to comfort or solace.

" You guys need to find Jason. He needs help, wherever he is." With Dick on his heels like a hungry wolf,  _boy_ , did he need help. That's not why Dick was after him, however. Tim wasn't sure why they wanted him to damn much, especially if he was in another dimension where he wasn't causing them harm. But, Dick thirsted for his blood like a drowning man craved oxygen.

" Jason is sick." Barbara continued, staring at the ceiling as if thinking back, observing idly as the cars passing outside the windows caused shadows to dance in twisted rhythm across the wall with their headlights.   

" I know." Tim sighed when he gave up the battle with his remorse without an outstanding fight and laid down next to her, their hands still linked. 

" Bruce knew that too. He wanted to help Jason, but....." He trailed off, not wanting to finish that sentence because it would make the reality they were living all the more stone cold. Bruce was gone, Dick was his eternal stand-in and no one was his voice of reason. 

As if sensing his dismay, Barbara's fingers tightened around him. 

" Bruce would be happy that you're doing everything you can for Jason." 

Yeah, like fucking getting him stabbed and hunted down to be dragged to the Bat's altar, a lamb to the slaughter. Tim couldn't acknowledge what she said and moved on from it. Bruce would hate them. Him  _and_  Dick. They'd become the very thing he dedicated his life and death to fighting. They'd become no better than the Arkham Knight. 

" I.... I just don't want it to end badly. I don't want anyone else to die." He breathed and blinked back the involuntary tears pricking his eyes when he  _again_  recalled the man he'd considered his childhood hero ruthlessly plunge a blade into the man he called his predecessor.  God, it had been so fast and cold and cruel.

" No one is going to die, Tim." Barbara promised him when she leaned over to plant a kiss onto his lips. It was gentle, like a cookie jar and he was a kid, something he wasn't supposed to reach. But he did and every time, it took him to a place only the two them could go.  A place where darkness and light existed only outside the crystal walls, leaving them at peace from the tormented struggle for survival. It was a magic potion that granted relief to the anguish in him for the few seconds that it lasted. And when the light pressure of her mouth was gone? Then it all came wailing and screaming back to bang with both fists on his barred doors.

" We're all going to see the sunrise tomorrow, Timmy." Barbara went on to say, stroking his shorn hair and trailed her hand down his neck, then repeating in that motion.  
  
Sniffing, Tim hugged her and as her arms tenderly descended to hold him, he buried his face in her side so she couldn't see the raging storm of rampant emotions in his eyes. Fuck, he felt so powerless and weak to do anything about what was happening. 

**_" Dammit. We got the wrong one."_ **

The wrong man wearing the cowl? Fuck, yeah, they did. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh-oh, Jason's in trouble. Run, boy, run!


	10. Breathing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy December!

Countless times before, Bruce had chased Jason, up buildings, down alleyways and streets, but it had never really seemed like he really wanted to get away. Or then he did, but also had nothing to lose if he was caught, so all his effort never went behind it.

But this time, oh,  _this time_ , Jason bolted from Bruce at a pace that had previously gone unseen and it was arduous to come anywhere near to keeping up with him. Yes, Jason was the strongest of his flock of Robins, but he was also damn fast. A trait he had that had previously gone uncredited.

Bruce called out to Jason a few times, called his name into the wind that whipped across his face, but he held back from it when it produced no fruit. It was already spectacle enough that Bruce Wayne was chasing a young man across rooftops without additional yelling. Like a predatory animal on the heels of its prey, he raced across the space between them without a single idea why Jason was running from him.

Jason sprinted across the rooftop and leapt over the 12-foot gap, swinging his arms back and landing precisely. He rolled from his uninjured shoulder to his feet in less than a second and used the momentum from the roll to keep on running. At the next ledge, almost immediately after the first, he jumped again, deftly catching the edge of the polar building with his only working hand. Bruce - less mobile in his restrictive dress suit - performed the jump with less ease than Jason but went straight after like a greyhound on a rabbit's trail.

So desperate to get away, Jason hadn't taken to count how his wounded arm clinging to his side affected his balance and while he'd avoided the consequences of that by sheer luck up until now, the next alleyway he tried to bound across didn't go so well for him. He landed on the very edge of the roof, swaying back dangerously far back like he was going to fall. Biting his lip, Bruce kicked more speed into himself, just about fast enough to spring off the roof and catch Jason, arm around his middle and pulling him back where it was safe and stable.

They tumbled across the concrete with plenty of grunts and kicks and uncoordinated strikes from Jason, the majority of which Bruce caught before they caused any damage. His hand enveloped the fist Jason threw and he trapped the younger man underneath himself, his back flat against the surface of the concrete he twisted and writhed against.

" Get the fuck off me!" Jason screamed at him, hot-blooded and his uncharacteristically blue eyes wild with anger, but behind that, Bruce saw it clear as day, what his son was badly hiding. He was  _afraid_.

" Off me!" Jason bucked and struggled with Bruce's weight pinning him down, arms wrestled above his head with no nod of help to himself by his fighting. Bruce held him down with no intention of letting go until he was somewhat calmer, but while that didn't look like it was coming soon and Bruce didn't invoke aggression from Jason by inputting any words. He took a quick study of a few noticeable things while Jason wasted his energy. Number one, Jason's eyes. Not teal, no hint of the Pit's eternal mark, just blue, like they were before. Second, he felt thinner around the midriff, flanks sunken in as if he were on hunger strike and even if he were, he would not have lost this much weight in the week or so since Bruce last saw him. He was ten pounds less, at least.

Third and foremost, with Jason's shirt riding up his torso then down while he fought to get free, Bruce caught no sign of the long Y-scar that would be obvious from any distance. Irrelevant? Maybe the angle was wrong? There was every excuse to explain it away and also every reason not to. Everyone who was anyone recently around Jason hadn't been wrong with their raised eyebrows.

" Jason," Bruce sighed, slightly peeved and kinda hoping there was no paparazzi lurking around somewhere (even on a roof, you can never be too sure) to capture an image of the billionaire and respected public figure straddling a young man down against his will.

" Let me go, Bruce!" Jason tried to headbutt him but the weight on his torso and restrained arms didn't give him enough manoeuvrability for the attack. Instead, he fell back against the ground with a flat thwap.

"  _Leggo_!" His son proceeded to all but shriek at him and he thrashed, flexing every muscle he had to pull in on himself and drag away, the hands on him making an escape impossible. He'd torn himself loose from the confines of the sling and the way he kept frantically moving back and forth, Bruce's grip around his wrist was feeling a subtle click, click, clicking reverberating through his muscle, reminiscent of an old injury further up his arm. Fragments of poorly healed bone, perhaps? Whatever it was, there was another thing Bruce could swear Jason did not have.

"  _Jason_." Bruce repeated, more sternly this time, no longer playing around, if he ever was. He tightened his grip over the other, still doing nothing to still him. He wasn't sure he could use that name, since he was fairly certain already, that this was not his son. Clayface, Inque, they were both capable of shape shifting, skin-walking, whatever your preferred terminology was. And, that's not to say, certain aforementioned folk hadn't feigned being Jason in the past.

At this point in time, Bruce could see Clayface already having ditched the act and done anything he could to escape, which lead him to lean more in Inque's direction, but this wasn't exactly in her ballpark. Pondering about it would get him nowhere, however, not without action.

" Jason, listen," Bruce said and for a second, 'Jason' stopped squirming, locking eyes up at him and damn, if those weren't a stranger's eyes....

" I'll let you go, if you can answer me one question."

Jason's gaze attenuated, suspicion amidst distrust, drawing a breath through his teeth that was so tense it wasn't real. Sounded like he was trying to calm himself.

"  _What,_ Bats?" He bit. Troubling that he knew Batman's identity even while he was in normal skin.

" Roy's tattoos," Bruce began and could already sense the dismay, akin to being afloat on the ocean with all sense of direction falling to shambles.

" What do they represent?"  _Jason_ , he would know this. He did know this when it was so personal to his partner. The skull with the bow and arrows sticking out of its mouth had no particular meaning, but the word "pesadilla" inked onto Roy's left arm translated from Spanish to  _nightmare_. "Poison" and the scorpion, an animal which symbolised both danger and change, all served as a reminder not to get lost in his addictions again. That time period in Roy's life had been a nightmare, it had been dangerous, and he needed to stick to his change, no matter what.

Real thought had gone into those tattoos, months of planning and sketching out what he wanted, Jason had helped him here and there.

So yeah, he should definitely know damn well what the meanings were. Even Bruce knew (begrudgingly sitting through Oliver's rant about Roy's life choices revealed that, something about _'why the hell does he need to put those mistakes out there, for everyone to see?'_ ).

Yet here Jason was, struggling to find rhyme or reason behind the distinct tattoos. It was clear in the way he looked at Bruce, that he had no fucking idea. His lips moved less than millimetres but no words came out, just a slow  _uh_....

Theory confirmed:  _not_  Jason. The absent memories had any number of explanations, but those coupled with the physical differences like missing scars were the ingredients to a very different cocktail.

With the heel of his hand, Bruce struck the man beneath him a jolting blow to the forehead, snapping his head back into the concrete with a  _crack_ thatsent sharp shocks of pain through his skull. Instant knockout.

The incapacitation wouldn't last long, however, half an hour, tops. Any longer would be wading into waters of fatality, but Bruce had done that too many times to make the mistake of hitting too hard. With the knowledge of what little time he had, Bruce got off the man who looked eerily much like Jason and pulled his wrists together with a duo of zip ties from this suit pocket (never leave home without 'em!).

Bruce had a hankering to get to the bottom of finding where Jason really was, who this impostor is,  and why he's doing this, all by the end of the day so he still had the time to mentally prepare for the moment he would have to explain to a board of self-respecting teachers why a ten-year-old taking a full grown cow to class was not as bad as an offence as it seemed.

One of these was going to be more straightforward than the other.

* * *

 

So Jason ran off,  _again_. And Bruce had to go after, what else is new? A considerable while in and no Bruce or Jason, which is when the remaining bat boys - Dick and Damian - got the message from their daddy dearest, to meet him back at the cave. Roy had an extended invitation to go, too, of course, but he declined. He wasn't worried about Jason when he was with Bruce and needed to get some work done anyway.

And now he was alone in the abandoned apartment, all by himself with seemingly a tonne of clues to go through. He set up his equipment at the table as well as the things he had, Jason's bodysuit as the star of the show.

Roy examined it under the lens of his microscope while, for precautionary reasons, he ran the bloodstains on it through his systems. Those always came up interesting. While he stared at a fragment of the garment through the eyepiece, he kept thinking about something Jason had said that stuck with him.

_" I wanted to be him.... now I am. I'm the only me."_

That kept repeating through Roy's head over and over, making no sense but he couldn't forget it. What had Jason been doing at Arkham, anyway? Jesus, couldn't one thing be clear anymore? Hopefully, some of the work he got done would shine a light on some answers.

He darted his attention back to the blood analysis the moment it finished processing, and wasn't really surprised to learn that it was indeed, Jason whose DNA popped up. Again, way too much blood to have come from his few injuries and the damage on the suit didn't match a single of Jason's actual wounds. No to mention - and here was a disturbing tidbit - this blood was around two days old.

 Jason lost this piece of his suit a week ago.

Timelines didn't match one bit.

Roy leaned back in his seat, hands laced behind his neck as he thought but the dots refused to connect. Bruce was here now, he'd help figure this shit out. He'd not take a tick to learn who attacked Jason and why, what was making him behave this oddly, and all that jazz. In theory, Roy didn't have to do anything anymore, he could just leave this for the Bat to drag to the finish line. 

That sounded preferable to his mental Olympics.

But still, it wasn't five minutes later that Roy found himself collecting his gear into a duffel bag and heading out to his motorcycle parked in the inconspicuous garage opposite their apartment. Jason bought that garage, when his paranoia got the better of him after weeks worth of fighting the terror of leaving his prized bike in the street outside the kitchen window. Jason loved that bike, painted black and red as his signature colours, and he'd lived in constant fear that someone would key it or steal it. Not invalid fears, but Roy definitely questioned the necessity of purchasing a space as large as Jason did. You could store a tank in there. 

Coming to the building's front doors from their second-story apartment, Roy was almost out when he was greeted by the widely smiling elderly lady from next door, who always made a point to give him hard boiled candy whenever they bumped into each other. Roy had a collection of wrappers going, all from those sweets she gave him like he was a trick-or-treater.

" Ron!" Mrs Finnigan exclaimed, smiling her toothless smile, dark hooded eyes sparkling with delight at seeing him, even if she never could remember his name. Roy smiled a greeting, stopping a few feet from her.

" 'Lo, Mrs Finnigan. Back from the store, I see." Roy said, gesturing to the brown paper bag she was carrying, the outlines of vegetables and other food things pressing against its material.

" Oh, yes. I'm making a vegetable casserole for dinner, my daughter is coming around with little Sophie." Mrs Finnigan explained while Roy nodded as patiently as he could with his urge to leave as great as it was. His muscles twitched and he kept glancing out the large windows. 

" I see. It's been quite a while since she visited, hasn't it?"

Mrs Finnigan nodded her ancient head, never relapsing her merry expression.

" On your way to the gym, Troy?"

Roy shot a look at the duffel bag over his shoulder, tightening his fingers around the handle as he shifted it, its leather creaking. 

" Yes, ma'am, I am. Gotta keep fit, y'know?"

" Not taking your friend with you?"

Roy shook his head once  _no_ , dishevelling his already messy shock of red hair, taking care to keep his answers vague. Mrs Finnigan was nice and all, but also the notorious gossip with that stereotypical neighbour's granny nosiness for every bit of everyone else's business.

" Jason's busy today." 

Mrs Finnigan was from that era in time where anything but hetero made her think should result in the second Salem witch trials, and although she'd no doubt seen Roy plant a kiss on Jason's mouth or vice versa - given how obligated she was with what everyone else was doing - she was in strong denial about what their relationship actually was. In her eyes, they were friends who lived together. Neither Roy nor Jason saw the need to correct her.

The granny continued to pry instead of getting her groceries to the fridge. They must be going soft in the artificial warmth of the building. 

" Is he working?"

" Yes." Roy kept his friendliest face on while he sidestepped around her, bag on his shoulder weighing heavy.

" But I better get going. Good luck with your family over."

" Thank you. Have a good day, Ray."

And then they parted ways, Mrs Finnigan shuffling her feet along the dirty linoleum floor while Roy jogged out, annoyed for the crumb of time he'd already wasted on getting cornered in a chit-chat with the neighbour. On an ordinary day, no part of him would have minded swapping words with the old woman for a tad, but not today.

Once crossing the street to the garage door, he unlocked it with the spare key he'd spent three days begging Jason to give him, and went in. The dark interior lit up at the switch of the light, casting a dull glow over the vehicles within as well as the stacks of machine parts that Roy had subtly sneaked in, bit by bit, until the majority of his crap took up space in the unit.

He recalled that Jason had been far from thrilled when he discovered the invasion had pushed his bike to the side. Thinking fast, Roy countered any protests he may have had with the age-old line, sharing is caring. And, the 'Shut Roy Up' coupon he gifted Jason with may have also helped drive his point home.

Roy shut the door behind him and began piling his gear on, quivers, mask, ruby colour kevlar vest, the whole kit and kaboodle. Despite Dick having promised to talk with Zsasz, Roy didn't know when he'd get the opportunity to do so and since he wanted it done asap, he supposed it fell onto his shoulders to learn what the sociopath knows.

While he was at Arkham, he planned on closer inspecting that cell in the abandoned wing they'd found Jason at. It was another thing that plagued him relentlessly.

* * *

 

_**" Gooooodddd mornin', baby birdie! Rise an' shine!"** _

After getting knocked out, Jason came back around tied down, heavy weighted binds over his wrists and legs, forcing him laid across what felt like a cold aluminium table with a bright light glaring from overhead. Fuck, if that didn't give him some flashbacks to his Arkham days. That aside, he was regaining his senses fast, noticing quick how his head throbbed like a bitch while recollecting in glimpses where Bruce was on top of him, squeezing the ever loving hell out his arms while he asked stupid fucking questions. 

Bruce.....  _fuck_ , hadn't Jason said the second the old man showed up, the gig was over? Yeah, he'd monologued that a few times and here was the evidence, this place he was in looked a helluva lot like the Cave.

" Who are you?" Glaring, face darker than his cowl, Bruce asked from a meter away. Jason hadn't noticed him standing there before, but didn't think twice before turning his head and visually spitting all that anger right back at him.

**_".... You're lying to yourself."_ **

" Why don't you figure that out,  _detective_?" Jason spat, his words coming out more bitterly than he'd thought. He'd expected to be completely frozen if he ran into the big bad bat, to have no words over the feeling of failure and dwindling sense of vengeance, but no. Jason surprised himself by being defensive and ready to fight as he ever was, not a petrified pup.

_**" You're scared..."** _

" Where is Jason?" Bruce demanded, coming closer, intimidating even without his pointy-eared Halloween getup. On the roof, Jason had made it clear he knew the big hush-hush identity shtick, why would Bruce wear his fucking cowl with nothing to hide? Still, he did question the logic behind bringing him back to the cave to be questioned. Bruce didn't know who he was, what he could do, so why the fuck did he choose this location? Unless, of course, he knew more than he was letting on....

" I'm right here, Brucey." Jason replied, feeling a grin forming at how visibly that response ticked Bruce off. He hated games, which made one wonder why he liked messing around with Joker so much.

" You're not fooling anyone anymore."

" Oh, c'mon," Jason tipped his head against his shoulder with a smirk that showed his teeth. " I know how you are,  _dad_. You've already run a bunch of DNA tests on me while I was out, and you can't understand the results, because even if I were Clayface in disguise, my DNA wouldn't match Hood's."

While Bruce remained scowling, Jason finished with a sly, 

" You know who I am."

Bruce's gaze attenuated more, wordlessly confirming what Jason had said. They were alone in the Batcave, it appeared, no sign of Dick or that demon boy who jumped Jason, but he'd bet gingersnap's cinnamon hot chocolate that they weren't far away. If Bruce wanted to talk alone, then that was because there was something he didn't want them to know yet.

He was all too aware with what was going on here, whether or not he'd say it.

Jason continued to talk in his taunting tone of voice,

" Hoodie mentioned something about a JLA mission gone fucked up? Opened up wormholes here an' there? Sound familiar?" The way Bruce didn't reply was a reply enough. Originally, he'd probably suspected Clayface faking being Jason Todd, but after the DNA results came back, he'd reached this conclusion Jason was now wording for him, no question about it.

" Where is my son?" Bruce pressed without any regard for the rest of this story. Cute how he got so worried and dad-like when Hood was missing and Jason couldn't help but wonder if that's the way his Bruce's actions had spoken when he was captured.

 _Nah_! He was replaced within two months by Tim. The memory put Jason in a good mood to make Bruce hurt as much as he could with what he had over him. Never mind this wasn't the same Bruce as the one from his world, grudges were grudges when that old spark of vengeance ignited. The facade was torn down, he'd been discovered, so why not take the ship down with him?

_**" That's it, Robbie! Make it difficult for daddy! Doesn't he deserve it?"** _

" Your son?" Jason smiled wickedly, relishing the tension and hidden anxiousness he sensed coming off Bruce. He really was concerned for Hood. That'd make toying with him extra fun. Despite his restrains and the Bat looming over him with all the advantage to strike on his side, Jason felt like the one in control here.

" I killed him."

* * *

 

Zsasz's grin split wide, wider than even the Joker himself would have been comfortable with. The man sat on the opposite end of the interrogation table with Roy standing in front of him and two armed guards to the side, just in case he got any ideas. The supervision, it was Arkham's precautionary one condition that they would let the archer have a few words with their current most dangerous resident. With the Joker currently out and about somewhere god only knew, Zsasz proudly held onto that title.

" You were seen by Robinson Drive a few nights ago," Roy began, arms folded across his chest and the strap of his quiver. He could feel the guards' eyes on him, questioning the logic behind a bow and arrows as his weapon of choice. Joke's on them, he also had his smart mouth to fall back on if all else failed.

" Me? No. No, I was right here, in my cell like a good knife murderer." Zsasz said, leaning back against his seat with his arms kept in an X by the straight jacket he seemed almost too comfortable in. Perhaps he was used to it. By now, he should bloody well be.

" Just ask anyone"

" See, that's the thing," Roy leaned against the table separating them, hands laid flat on the surface. An air of unspoken threat he'd usually let Jason handle crept into his voice.

" I did ask anyone and they confirmed it, you were locked up all night. So here's my question, who'd you get to play the security footage on a loop? And more importantly, what did you do to Red Hood?" This scarred bastard had to have played a part, there was no way it was a coincidence he was there that night. But Jason had been left alive, not Zsasz's MO even close.

 _" Red Hood?_ " Zsasz raised his smoothly shaven hairless brow, looking like Roy's speculations made him want to laugh. The guy was good at playing dumb, Roy'd give him that much.

" I haven't seen him in months. And do I look like a guy who could one-up a tank like Hood?"

Well, he wasn't wrong there. Zsasz was fairly small, lanky with stringy muscles over his bones, and no particularly impressive skill set when it comes to combat. Roy didn't need to be told there was no way Zsasz had harmed Jason, much less done half the shit that had happened to him, but he also had nothing else to go on.

He sighed in frustration, removing his cap just to rake his fingers through his hair. When he glanced back at Zsasz, the man looked amused,  _amused_  when Roy was stressing the fuck out about what was going on with his partner.

" Something you'd like to add, Vicky?" Roy asked, vexed, wound up, inwardly kicking himself for being dumb enough to expect any answers whatsoever from this nutjob.

" Is Hood dead?" Zsasz outright asked, wasting no time in dancing around what Roy bet him and the guards were both wondering. If you saw Arsenal out and about without Red Hood's supervision, something bad had happened. It was common knowledge at this point.

" No!" Roy exclaimed. He hated that idea even in the form of a question that was so obviously wrong. Roy didn't want to fucking consider anything of that nature and why would he have to? He knew where Jason was right now.  But, that guy who he found that night on the roof, he didn't feel like Jason.

" No, he's not fucking dead. You and the crooks of this damn city aren't that lucky."

" You got awfully defensive there. Your mate unwell, then? Kinda weird he's not here with you." Zsasz commented, having no idea the tripwire he was pressing against. But then maybe he did and also was aware that with the guards here, Roy couldn't do shit to drive this flatlining interrogation to the home run faster with some more motivating methods.

" That's sweet of you, Zsasz, but no need to worry your bald little head about how my partner is." Roy pushed a clearly fake smile, not even bothering to try to make it look authentic. He really wasn't feeling it.

He didn't stay long after that, leaving the Arkham staff to escort Zsasz back to his cell while Roy tried to figure out what to do next. Would returning to that old wing wield any fruit? Despite the errors and inconsistencies in the timeline, someone had spent a considerable while there torturing Jason and that on its own, was a good reason to pick apart every brick and tile. 

Sighing, Roy started down the hallway, seriously hoping Bruce had more luck decoding this crap than he had. He was just a little archer, after all, the Dark Knight would probably finish this case by the time Roy had reached the end of the upcoming stairs.

* * *

 

 _Breathing_.

He wasn't sure when it started, but he was breathing. Flakes of dirt and sand, in, out, in, out, rattling and rumbling somewhere deep in his chest. It hurt.  _Christ_ , it constricted like hell, burned angrily, but the burn was good. It meant he was alive.

Dark. It was clammy and dark, warm from his own recycled breaths and the dry dirt walls surrounding him.

 _Encasing_  him.

 _Entrapping_  him.

He barely had enough space to squirm and the only illumination was the pale pulsating poison green glow of no origin. The weight of the entire world seemed lay on his chest, his arms, his legs, crushing him and the possibilities of getting out of this place.

There was a foreign presence in him, something inhumane, not belonging to this earth yet dawning long past the furthest reaches of mankind's memory, and it was  _angry_.  _Hungry_. It stretched underneath his skin, leaked into each nerve and tiny muscle, forcing them to move when he couldn't do it himself.

It kept him alive. Against what his body wanted, and that was to stop struggling to breathe in a space where there was no air. He flitted in and out of consciousness, when awake it was just enough to feel the Pit's claws latched around the reigns, moving his limbs without commands from his brain, so disconnected he didn't understand what he was trying for. Nothing seemed relevant until his fingernails weakly scraped a stone slab laid over him. That jump-started him, fusing his systems to his mind when freedom was so close.

Cut up, scraped, maybe broken,  _trembling_ , his hands broke through the concrete chunks without regard for what was possible. He stretched his arms - unused joints popping loudly - as far as they could go, until he could reach no further and hooked his fingers into the ground like claws that left behind thick red lines when he started to pull. Hunks of broken asphalt and dirt alike showered off him when his neck and shoulders broke the surface. With that first fast dry rasp of oxygenated air, his body became reinvigorated with the inhumane  _need_  to escape. Something like acid rushed through his veins, so hard the deafening buzz of it in the back of his head was painful, but good fucking god, if it didn't hurl him into the current of a drive of otherworldly intensity. He needed that.

Once he got his upper body out of the ground, Jason tore and wrenched and dragged until he felt himself loosening from the graves' taloned clutches with a ragged scream that didn't sound nearly human. It sounded like the cry of an angry tortured demon, so raw and full of rage.

Everything around him, the room, the barred doors and smashed table, his blood covered hands flat on the ground in front of him, it was all an inverted poison green with a blinding glow, but on some instinct he never knew he had, it all made sense to Jason. The glare didn't disrupt his vision, if nothing, it was clearer to see when it was there.

He grappled himself onto all fours, coughing and choking out mouthfuls of sand and green liquid. It was bitter and hot, sizzling when it hit the ground in quantities anatomically impossible to all be stored in him, yet here it was. He near convulsed when he wretched, uncaring of the way it splashed onto his hands and jeans, when they were already ruined by his own blood and the soil.

Being empty of all the green water didn't stem the mad overdrive his body was in. He vibrated at a speed that seemed to make everything around him hum, so jacked full of adrenaline it made his veins stick out hard and painful from his skin.

Then, he had no thought process outside of mindless anger. Fury so strong it was like a fire building up in his gut, tearing him at the seams just to escape. Every nerve ending was burning and writhing and shrieking.

Earth and dirt, cold sweat and all manner of fluids Jason couldn't name stained his flesh, the damp fabric of his torn clothes sticking to him. His sweat-soaked hair was plastered to his brow, scrunched up and teeth bared. His jaw set so tight it hurt.

But again, none of it registered.

Soon, not every breath came out his mouth as a burst of powdery sand and the saliva pooling under his tongue was less like mud. The breathless gasps were becoming more fluid but none the less desperate. Electricity buzzed in his skull, constant and drowning out everything except flashes of scrappy distorted memories.

Somebody....  _Dick_. Hurting him....  _Stabbing_  him -  _no,_   _Bruce_ , stabbing him.....  _Batman_? With a knife. In, out the blade went, mincing him. At the not-so-distant memory, veins of pain like a livewire twisted,  _s_ _quirmed_ , through his body and latched onto his raw nerves. He couldn't hear it, but Jason felt it, whines from a wounded dog, not nearly human, coming in a trembling, broken mantra from between his teeth, sitting on the edge of his lips, so breathy yet he felt like his lungs were empty and tightening from the fire swirling out of control in his gut.

Swallowing violently, Jason pushed himself up with a jolt, stumbled as he did, he crossed the room to a copper pipe going up the wall, dripping at the seals. Nothing was going through his brain except how dry his throat was, yearning for even the smallest drop of moisture.

With no regard for his lack of superhuman strength, it was like an out-of-body experience when his arms shot forward and greedy, desperate hands wrapped themselves around the pipe, cold metal nothing he noticed, and he wrenched it clean off the wall. Screws ripped out of the concrete walls and a cool mist of water sprayed everywhere, soaking him in seconds.

Jason didn't care. He didn't feel the cold cascades pouring down off him in his mad hurry to gulp down as much of it as he could. Swallow after a painfully hard swallow, he wasn't getting it in fast enough and it made him  _panic_. It was like he was fucking dying all over again if he couldn't douse the terrible burning somewhere in the pit of his stomach.

 _'No!'_  Somebody had yelled when the knife was tearing him open.  _Fuck_ , the memory of the chilly open air rushing to fill his abdomen when his skin was sliced across multiple times. More times than he could count.

That  _no_.... A horrified face blared through Jason's dishevelled and raving mind. The face was familiar, there but not the wielder of the thing that had hurt him. A yellow R, it kept irritating him by its presence because he couldn't place it. Where the fuck had he seen it? It was so  _damn_  familiar.

The water pumping into him, Jason was beginning to feel so fucking full he could hardly breathe, but he still wanted more.  _Needed_  more. Like he needed air. The new pink lines of scars across his belly were growing tighter and tighter with each needy gulp he took into himself.

The R, the face that went with it.... T -  _Tim_? Timothy Drake? The name registered and the identity followed suit a few moments later. Jason's first spotty recollection of the third Robin began to get less vague and the  _no_.... Tim had tried to stop the knife from cutting.

Brows drawn in, Jason raised his head, straightened his arched back, lips dripping droplets down his chin and neck, grazing the smooth of his chest as they rolled. Fire dying down but leaving behind the buzz, Jason was beginning to remember things more clearly.

He'd been captured by.... by a villain calling himself the Arkham Knight. There'd been something particularly outstanding about him. What had it been?

While he attempted to pull those fleeting crumbs of memory into the light from the dark corners of his shambled mind, Jason tried to sweep his dirty overgrown hair out his face, but couldn't without his shaking hands streaking dirt-turned-miry mud and blood - fresh and old - across his features. It stung in the breaks across his cracked skin.

Jason whimpered and pawed at both sides of his head, pushing with his hands on his temples, trying to make the overbearing droning of the Pit shut the fuck up before it drove him off the brink. He took a few unsteady steps back, or to the side? Direction fell into irrelevancy. The small of his back thudded into something, a table? Yes, a table, sturdy enough to stand when he blindly searched the space between him for something to lean on.

Jason distinctly recalled the J-shaped brand -  _scar_ , on the Knight's left cheek, how blue his eyes had been, intense like the ocean before a hurricane. He'd worn three distinct colours schemes that showed up as only smudged hues when he tried to recreate the man's face.

Jason must be really damn frazzled because the only picture his brain could conjure was his own image. Why? Why couldn't he see the assailant's true appearance?

_" We're from different dimensions, okay? We're the same person, you're just in my reality. That's why we look the same and fight the same."_

Oh fuck, now it was all beginning to come back. He'd said that line, when the Knight first let him speak, a couple days before a Batman who looked like Dick ran him clean through with a knife blade....  _Knife_? Had it been a knife?

He lowered his gaze to his abdomen, the flicker-fast image of a hand fisted around a batarang that ripped through him fragmenting past his mind's eye. Through his tattered shirt, he could see the hard pink ridges left by puncture wounds pricking betwixt the shredded garment. One, two, three, four, five....

Still more than a little confused, every part of his body still aching with the madness that refused to die down entirely, he swept his gaze across the room. There was a chair with ropes around it in one corner, a solid iron bar torn off the door left sprawled out on the ground, next to that horrible pit he just barely crawled out of without suffocating. This looked like a cell in Arkham Asylum, which to him said, that no one found his body after that Batman stabbed him. Had he been from the Knight's universe? Not a chance it was his brother.

_..... six, seven, eight, nine, ten...._

Why did no one find him? Why didn't they come looking?

Shivering, Jason hugged himself with a miserable whine through his teeth when the past was skittering back, bit by bit, insensible shredded remnants of flashbacks slowly creeping into a timeline that made sense. When he remembered everything more clearly, he thinks he knows why no one found him.

_" Look, Jason, someone's gonna notice you aren't me pretty fast."_

Evidently, he'd been wrong because God knew how long he'd been under that floor.

_Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen......_

That fucker was still out there, posing as him, wasn't he? With  _his_  family and  _his_  partner?

That demented, tyrannous pull of the Pit that had quietened down somewhat sprung back into voice, rushing a mad predatory animal inside his blood veins. He growled, the low rumble in his chest rattling the walls of the empty cell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This probably seriously sucked and I'm sorry about that.


	11. The Cure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Believe it or not, I wrote this chapter ahead of time, about two weeks ago actually, and have just been proofreading and am still not sure how well this turned out.

Alarms shrieked at the top of their mechanical pre-recorded lungs and crimson lights flashed through the halls, dotted either side by inmates going wild, arms sticking out from between bars and yelling things that's meaning was lost in the noise, but all that faded to background buzz in Jason's head, nothing he could hear over the thumping in his head, urging him to go on.

When he was incarcerated here what felt like a short while ago, Jason had found a way out of his cell that allowed him to take all the unsupervised strolls down passages of the poorly guarded asylum that he wished. He'd learned the ups, downs, ins and outs of this place long before what he was doing went discovered. ie, he knew exactly where he was going.

A score of security guards and asylum staff rounded a corner, running in formation like ducks when they charged him, armed to the absolute teeth. He didn't blame them for being so quick to jump to a violent response at his presence. He must look quite the sight, after all, covered in dry blood, water and dirt turned to mud, body bearing more bruises and scratches than there were stars in the sky.

And he broke  _into_  the asylum, even if technically, he was already here. Only now, half the Arkham's staff lay incapacitated the way he had come.

" Stand down, or we will shoot!" One of the guards yelled while he needlessly dramatically swung the muzzle of his gun up to line with Jason's chest, the small red dot dancing over his heart joined by several others.

Jason didn't pause to listen to a word they had to threaten him with before he was on them like a lion on the back of its prey. They opened fire, no hesitation, the loud crack of unleashed firepower pounding on the walls and sinking into the rock they were made of.

Jason ran and meters from them, dropped to his knees, sliding underneath the shower of bullets faster than they could trace him with it, popping back up between a man and his gun, his arms encircling Jason for the split second that he wasn't floored for. He screamed in pain when Jason kneed him in the groin, thrust the butt of his gun into his throat and turned the weapon on his colleagues. The guard still attached to his firearm by the strap, Jason swung him around to perfect his aim onto everyone there and with the trigger pulled all the way back, an onslaught of bullets rained into limbs and kevlar vests they were  _lucky_  to be wearing, with a collage of screams and howls of pain.

Jason took them all down without breaking a sweat, abandoning his newly acquired firearm when he emptied the clip and walked over the writhing bodies of the injured men and women. He'd kicked a rifle into his hand and cocked it before he was around the corner they'd come from.

" Well, well, Hoodsie!" Someone - some villain he didn't bother to look at - who he probably knew called out to him from where he was spectating in his cell. He opened his mouth to say more but not before Jason raised his arm to the side and shot whoever it was. One bullet, straight in the fucking shoulder for a wail of pain instead of an unwanted input.

Blood speckles exploded onto the side of Jason's face but he didn't care. He kept walking, strides fast and fuelled with intent.

He glanced at himself in the window of the med bay door when he passed it. Fuck, did he look terrible? Just the brief flicker of interest he gave his appearance showed the white stripe of hair he'd always been careful to dye, now resurfaced and the pure snowy colour dulled by earth and god knows what else. His eyes, well, those were particularly fucked the fuck up, blaring poison green orbs in his head, the glow bright enough to reflect on his cheeks. His skin was covered in dirty cuts and splits.

...  _Damn_. A shower was necessary at some point, at least to clean some of this mess off. He looked like he'd ran through a blood drive held in a pig sty. And said sty was on fire.

Was it mentioned that it was a burning pig sty blood drive in  _Gotham?_

Shooting another hoard of security where it wasn't fatal without straying from his warpath, Jason kicked the kitchen door off its hinges for a detour as well as a shortcut. The linoleum-floored, barely sterile space was walls to ceiling, covered in discoloured cracked tiles and aluminium counters. Jason marched in, the determined glare ever prominent, melting holes into all the cooks that regarded him with eyes wide for all variation of reasons.

"  _Geddim_!!!" Shrieked an extremely overweight bitch with frizzy red hair and a frying pan she waved wildly through the air. Even from this distance, Jason could see the gaping black cavities in her crooked yellow teeth when she flapped her gums.

A Hispanic man, an impressively sized 6'3, 230-pound hunk, no doubt an inmate doing penal labour, charged Jason with a mad roar and a cleaver held high above his head.

" Die!" He howled in the second before Jason ducked underneath blade he swung and responded with a shock of bullets ripping holes in his assailant's middle, going all the way through and into his cooking comrades. Screams exploded throughout the kitchen and the blood flowed like the goddamn rivers of Babylon.

With the past few weeks he'd had, Jason wasn't in the mood to tango. In the Bat's book, killing was a controversy, rhymes with mercy, and tonight Jason didn't have an ounce of it. These fucktards should know to stay away from the rampaging Hood, and if they weren't smart enough for that, well, not his fucking problem.

He had, after all, been incarcerated here for months. They knew full well who he was.

" Little  _Jason_  Todd, is that you?" The fat bitch sneered, somehow oblivious to the corpses forming a fairy ring about her. A bullet had gone into her blubbery arm but with her layers of lard, she likely hadn't even noticed. Jason knew who she was, he'd seen her 'round the halls here a couple times, but couldn't for the newly raised life of himself, recall her by name. She'd never been a terribly remarkable person.

" The second and not only." Jason raised his weapon, expression dark and without a grain of empathy for anyone in that instance. His own anger coupled with the Pit's driving force was an ugly mess, especially when he had a rifle.

" Why doncha put that there gun down, boyo? Let's talk this out, eh?" In her thick southern belle brawl, she offered, like she was doing him a favour when in truth, she probably realised her frying pan was worth shit against him and his toy.

" Not in a talkin' mood." Jason came back with, finishing his sentence near the second that he ploughed a bullet in between her beady little black eyes. Her face was the picture of shock, gaze wide and mouth wider still, her slack jaw adding a third chin to her neck. She teetered on the balls of her feet for a bit before she fell back onto the ground. It was more of a blubbery flop than a crash.

Jason stepped around her and the sea of other bodies without a care. These guys were all fucking crazy murderers and sadistic rapists. They deserved death at the barrel of a gun.

He powerwalked through the kitchen and grabbed a couple of fresh bread rolls off a tray on the counter, stuffing one whole into his mouth as he went because  _fuck_ , he was starving. He didn't remember when he ate last and while he unceremoniously munched on the roll that burned his mouth and throat when he wolfed it down, he still couldn't recount.

He left the kitchen with the doors banging behind him, AK-47 over his shoulder while he swallowed another roll without much effort to chew it. He'd eaten his hastily scavenged dinner long before he arrived at the storage room, a large space stocked full of goodies confiscated from the inmates upon incarceration.

Jason shot the lock out and went in, this time facing no uprise of wannabe heroes for the probable cause that they realised they were committing mass suicide by coming at him.

He set up a chair underneath the handle of the door just to be sure he'd have a few moments to himself before sauntering down the aisles between the rows and rows of shelving bursting with everything from Riddler's dumbass question mark cane to Victor Fries' freeze ray gun.

And, Jason'd bet, a few bits and bobs repossessed from the Red Hood himself. And as it happens, Jason found a whole lotta things taken from his fellow Hoods, weapons and equipment dating back before his birth, but the new stuff on the top of the stacks he recognised fondly.

Jack- _fucking_ -pot.

Allowing himself the first wicked grin of the night, Jason stared down into the plastic box with an old plain grey bodysuit staring back, no red bat on the chest. A sweet leather jacket was folded beneath it, and a crimson domino mask laid on the top of it all as the cherry. To the side of that were weapons galore, guns, knives, grenades, throwing stars.

The Arkham Knight wanted to be him so badly, now Jason was gonna give him the whole under the Red Hood experience.

* * *

 

  
" Stand down!" Out in the hall outside the armoury, an authoritative voice ordered Jason, coming with the oh-so-familiar creak of an arrow being notched and pulled taut. He was expecting of the twang of the arrow sailing through the air and crashing into his back, but that never came.

Jason turned on his heel and relief so powerful that it had never before been experienced by mankind flooded him, every nerve and nerve ending and cell and microcell, when he spotted the redhead, at the end of the hall with his bowstring drawn back. Roy was pale and looked puffed from running, eyes wide with an unreadable emotion when his gaze locked on Jason, blood covered, standing amongst a sea of incapacitated bodies while he held a rifle in one hand and a dozen more weapons were strapped around him. He looked ready to wage a world war and he knew it.

"  _Jason_?" Roy blatantly gaped, his disbelief substantial enough to be obvious from every angle. He was all geared up, bows, arrows, glaring red suit with bulletproof padding not providing nearly enough coverage, as if he came here expecting a fight. Jason had wagered at least half of Gotham's authorities - the big bad Bat included - had already been SOSsed to the scene of the lunatic gunning up the asylum, but Roy was not who he'd expected to answer the call. But for once in his life, Jason had no complaints.

Instantly forgetting what he was doing, Jason dropped his AK-47 loudly and ran across the space between them at a record pace, all but jumping into Roy's arms and kissing the archer hard enough to bruise and draw a stifled gasp from between his teeth. God, it felt like an eternity since he last saw the ginger and in all honesty, he didn't know the exact count of days he'd been gone for but it was much,  _much_  too long. He'd not processed how much he'd missed Roy until this instance.

Despite the adrenaline high and rush of the Pit in his head, Jason almost sobbed for respite, straight into his partner's mouth and for whatever reason, Roy seemed to feel the same way when he cupped the back of Jason's head to pull him in deeper.

Without breaking the fiery kiss, Jason raised his arm to shoot the inmate behind who, on the brink of laughter behind the bars of his cell, yelled out  _GAYYY_!

 

Roy had no idea what to think when he sighted Jason, ransacking Arkham like the one man militia he'd proven himself to be. There was no nicer way to spell it, Jason looked fucking  _terrifying_ with his eyes glowing poison green, contrasted by his red domino mask, and bodies piled high around him. He was kitted out with his old gear, from the very first version of his suit, seemingly every inch of him bearing the strap of one form of weapon or other.

No thoughts outside the hows and whys had the time to go through Roy's brain before Jason had appeared with no space between them and pretty much slammed their mouths together in a breathless transaction. Surprise aside, Roy had no hesitation in himself to kiss Jason back with the longing of years of separation, even while Jason tasted of blood, sweat, something bitter he couldn't identify and all things generally not considered savoury.

Fuck it, Roy didn't know what this feeling was, but he knew this was  _his_  Jason. It didn't make sense that he was here, not since Roy had confirmation he was with Bruce as they lived and breathed.

But this  _was_  his Jaybird.

When Roy could laboriously bring himself to break the kiss, Jason kneed him in the gut. Yelping, the burst of unexpected affliction knocked him backwards, thick warm pain spreading through him and his breath escaped from his body.

" There the hell have you been,  _Roy_?!"

" Wh - what the  _fuck_ , Jason?" Roy coughed, breathless, bent double with his arms wrapped around his middle while Jason stood over him, annoyance radiating off him in heavy sheets.  _Definitely_  his Jason, he'd know that knee anywhere.

" I have been under the goddamn floor of this damn asylum for fuck knows how long, while an evil version of me from another fucking dimension is doing any number of things he'd have had time for by now, and you  _didn't_  fucking notice anything was wrong?!" Jason paused his rant to take breaths he needed not to pass out.

" I - I mean how did you not know? The difference is literally written on his damn face!" 

Roy caught probably less than a quarter of what Jason yelled at him, but it sure as hell helped him realise he had a fuck tonne to work through. Another Jason? That.... that would make sense in a bizarre way. Wait.... Didn't Jason mention something about a JL mission resulting in disruptions in the time stream?  _Fuck_! How had he not remembered that until now? It explained everything! 

He looked back up at Jason, no longer feeling sorry for himself over that hit. He deserved it for not putting two and two together long before they reached this point. 

Jason stared down at him, the insane glow in his eyes had faded to some degree, but that left behind no traces of blue, not anymore. When Roy straightened and met Jason's gaze, he realised with a certain grimness that Jason's eye colour had now gone solid green, as if the former flecks of it had swollen to expand its territory.

" Babe, I - I'm s-"

" Save it, 'Nal." Waving an irritated hand of dismissal, Jason huffed, picking his gun up again from where he'd dropped it while he continued down the path he'd been going before the interruption. Frowning in concern and a number of other things, Roy jogged to keep up with him, pretty sure Jason's fast strides and refusal to let Roy fall into step meant he didn't want to talk about this now. Good, all the better, it gave Roy some time to know what to say.

" B.... Bruce has the other you right now." Roy mumbled somewhat uncertainly, the weapons on Jason suggesting he was planning to wage a war on himself. It wasn't undeserved but it was unnecessary.

"  _Good_." Jason said through his set teeth, glare hard and rooted on nothing but the hallway ahead while he cocked his weapon.

" I need a word with him." Anticipating bloodshed, Jason cracked his neck loudly as he went, his trigger finger trembling in small constant twitches. The whispers of the Pit remained murmuring in the back of his head for every step, but the sounds were... Getting  _fainter_? Further away...

Jason was, by appearance, full on crazy mode and despite half the asylum having gone down at his hand, with the adrenaline rush the Pit had provided to keep his systems going in the grave steadily lessening, he felt himself weakening. And Roy caught on remarkably fast. At least  _now_  he caught on without an additional week and word-for-word explanation, Jason thought to himself, somewhat moody but he refused to be blamed for it.

" You okay?" Roy asked, concerned more than before when Jason slowed considerably, blinking rapidly as if to ward off a shock of flash flood tiredness.

" 'M fine." He grumbled, low and rumbling in his chest. " Let's just go find the Knight and...  _And_.."

" Whoa,  _Jay_!" Roy moved lightning fast to catch him when he swayed and all but stumbled into his hold. Roy was taken aback by how _heavily_ Jason leaned on him, like he'd fall without the support. He shifted his arms around his partner to hold onto him better, fingers hovering over countless items of the armoury Jason had somehow acquired until they found a suitable rest, palms flat on his back.  

" S - sorry, Roy." Jason half inaudibly murmured into the crook of Roy's neck, where he'd burrowed his face. From the lack of his lashes batting against him, Roy reasoned his eyes were shut.

" Shh, it's alright, Jason. Nothin' to apologise for." Roy replied, assuringly stroking circles into his back while Jason's too deep breathing came in small bursts against his skin. Roy had no idea half the shit he'd been through while he himself aimlessly,  _uselessly_ , wandered through scenarios to explain the clues handed to him on a platter, but whatever it was, Jason was reaped of energy by it. He'd said he was under the floor.... The cracked concrete that other-Jason had been staring at... The damp earth covering Jason's body...... oh good god,  _no_. Had Roy really been that fucking close to his partner and not helped him? Jesus, this was gonna haunt him.

He'd have time to wallow in guilt later, however. This was neither the time nor the place.

Soon, Jason gathered his strength enough to straighten with a slow, shaky inhale through his parted and cracked lips, while Roy raised his hands onto Jason's shoulders, lest he still needed the crutch. He looked....  _groggy_? Lethargic, at least.

" We n... need to go c - catch him." Jason slurred as if weights appeared tied to his tongue, restricting his normally fluent flow of words. The high or strange rush of murder lust that had taken over Jason, it was draining and with it, so was his reputable stamina. After the hell he'd rained here, it was no surprise he was suddenly so tired.

" Hell _no_ , Jason. Bruce is handling your evil twin." While he spoke, Roy slung Jason's arm over his shoulder despite the other's feeble protests, and started walking him to the nearest exit. It wouldn't be long before the guards here regained their second wind and no way he was giving them the chance to pounce on Jason, when he wasn't so sure he himself could take them all without Jason at his full strength.

" I'll call Bruce when we're out, give him the details, but I'm taking you to a goddamn doctor."

Jason's grip around the rifle had gradually been lessening but it wasn't until Roy said that, that he actually dropped the thing with a loud clatter.

" Wh -  _no_. I have to-"

" Jason,  _darling_ , I love you, but shut up for one second, would you? You need to stop worrying about  _him_  when you're barely staying on your feet. We need to see Leslie 'cause god knows what's going on in your body after all this shit."

When Jason didn't raise any further argument, Roy had an inkling that he'd spoken some sense into him. While they walked, slow enough for Jason not to stumble over anything, Roy was trying to wrap his head around all this, that.... that had  _not_  been Jason who he'd spent the last week of his life surrounded by. Or, not his Jason. He was from a sister dimension? It did explain certain things, his eyes, the gaps in his knowledge, his strange behaviour, etc. The revelation came like a slap.

Roy should have seen this deception from the beginning. How was he so damn stupid? Because he kept looking outside Jason for the problems, not realising it had been him who'd caused them. In hindsight, he'd not even been such a convincing actor. Roy didn't think he'd even tried to mask himself half the time. Although, since he likely didn't know how his Jason acted, a perfect performance couldn't be expected of him.

But then.... that incident in the bathroom, when he broke the mirror....  _that_ , that was not an act. It was raw, genuine emotions of fear and distress the other-Jason had shown. He'd been so fucking scared of something that wasn't there and all Roy had wanted was to help him through it. With that in mind, Roy found it difficult to view him as inherently evil. But, he also didn't know what he'd done to his Jaybird just yet, and evidence suggested it was bad.

Roy bit his lip when he glanced over at Jason, looking far worse for wear than he'd seen him before. Now that the majority of the Pit's insanity had left him, his breaks were gaping wide and obvious. He didn't look any different to the way other-him had after he snapped out his dissociation in the wake of the panic attack.

Maybe it's because they had the same face, or because they were both Jason, but Roy didn't want anything bad to happen to the impostor in the aftermath of this discovery. He didn't know how Bruce was going to react, he really didn't, and he wasn't 100% sure that Jason could restrain himself and that was understandable.

It did feel like a betrayal all on its own that Roy was secretly hoping no harm would befall the other, when if there was one thing he'd learned over the course of this partnership with Jason, it's that Jason wasn't evil. He was just fucked in the head.

And... the  _Knight_ , as Jason had called him, certainly ticked off numerous symptoms that diagnosis.

* * *

 

Despite common misbelief and the image he so god-forsaken-hard enforced, Dick had..... never  _hated_  Jason. In fact, the problem lay in quite the opposite.

When he first met the second Robin, he'd been transfixed by the big bright eyes and wide cocky smile and the light sprinkling of freckles of his nose, all aspects of his face equally enticing. His childish glee and enthusiasm were so sweet they could cause diabetes. On the first mission when it was just Nightwing and the Boy Wonder, he'd not been able to keep his stare off the child, and that was when he began to realise the messed up fucking things going on in his head because Jason was a  _child_. He was fucking  _fourteen_. At twenty, Dick shouldn't be thinking half the shit he was about him.

So, when Dick couldn't resist the fantasies and thoughts from brewing, he made it a habit to avoid Jason. And cause it never fucking fails, that plan didn't work either. Like any would-be little brother, Jason soon latched himself onto Dick's side and hung on his heels like a goddamn parasite with a thirst for attention.

The damn tyke just wouldn't stay the hell away and Dick hated that he both wanted him as far as possible and  _didn't_.

Dick wasn't gay. He  _wasn't_. He had no romantic feelings for any other boy or man, nor had he ever. His second mortifying fear was that he was some sick pedo for having feelings for a kid. But no, nothing changed by Jason ageing. If anything, time intensified what was in Dick. Something about  _Jason_  invoked these unwanted desires in him. This was his doing.

And then one dark day, by accident or the rush of too raw emotions skyrocketing, he discovered the answer to his dilemma. He hit Jason. He'd never forget the crack across Jason's face that vibrated through his hand or the subtle tremble in the boy's small body for the seconds that he processed the strike.

Dick would never forget that he wasn't sorry for the distance that put between them.

More shit went down then but the most important part was that Jason left him alone after that. He stopped following him around on patrol and trying for his attention, only swapping words when it was necessary. Dick didn't have to hurt Jason many times after that, the first few instances drove the point home. Leave. Him. Alone.

Dick hoped the distance would make those undesired wants evaporate. If he didn't see Jason, then surely he wouldn't think about him anymore? He was like candy on display at the store, you only wanted it when you could see it. But no, living in another city didn't help and neither did having a girlfriend.

When in Donna Troy's company, Dick found himself involuntarily wishing then imagining it was Jason in her place, either when they were out or, for god's sake, when they were having  _sex_. It didn't take Donna long to pick up on his emotional distance involving their relationship, and she didn't stay more than a month. Dick had really liked this girl and every part of him blamed Jason for the breakup. Why'd the little punk have to exist? He was ruining Dick's entire life.

And then one godawful afternoon where the air was dry and still, Dick got word of Jason's capture at the Joker's hand, and he forgot everything he had against Jason in his relentless attempt to find him. All wrongdoings disintegrated from his darkened heart and all he wanted, was for Jason to be safe and undamaged when they located him.

Or, so he lead himself to believe. In truth, for every moment that he spent picking Gotham's underbelly apart for the clown, his subconscious was praying they found the boy dead. If he was gone, Dick would finally stop fucking thinking about him all the time. Jason would finally stop destroying his life just by being in it.

And then they didn't find him. Ever. It was wonderful. Dick put on a great show of grief and mourning, loudly asking himself that he could have done to avoid it? Behind the scenes, he was breathing a sigh of relief. Rid of Jason at last... Prayers come true.

When Bruce recruited Tim to fill Jason's shoes, Dick didn't have any strong feelings towards him. Tim was a good kid and all, not remarkably skilled in combat but what was in his head more than made up for it.

The cave and Gotham, in general, was an easier place to exist without Jason. It was like a horrible nightmare ended and Dick was at last, back in control of his own head.

Jason hardly crossed his thoughts until five whole years later, when the Arkham Knight's true identity came to light. It was a rapid downward spiral from there onward. Jason was alive and somehow controlling him all over again, invading his head and his dreams. Every night since the dramatic discovery, Dick dreamed of Jason, of kissing him and touching him, all things he hated himself and Jason for.

Why couldn't he leave him alone?! Dick  _didn't_  want this! He wanted Jason out of his brain!

Bruce dying only worsened the ton of bricks on Dick's shoulders. In fact, he thinks he may have suffered some kind of psychotic break when the news came back to him, especially when he learnt of Jason's involvement. He had every opportunity to change what happened and he turned them all down. He was as much Bruce's killer as anyone else.

After taking on the weight of the cowl, Dick unconsciously found himself getting more aggressive,  _violent_ , killing criminals without a care and often times,  _ruthlessly_. Next, he started lashing out at Tim. Verbal threats, at first, excessive yelling or degrading comments, but it didn't take a beat before it had transformed into physical abuse. Dick scarcely remembered the first time he hit Tim, not as graphically as when slapped Jason, that is.

The next thing he knows, Tim cuts his hair too short to be used as a handle to drag him by. That infuriated Dick far more than he could justify and he choked Tim out. It was a mindless haze of indescribable fury where he didn't feel Tim's struggling and thrashing or hear him spluttering for air Dick wasn't allowing him. All he knew was that he wanted to squeeze until Tim's heart stopped beating and his eyes popped out their sockets from the pressure building behind them.

But, he did manage to drag himself off before he did something irreversible and the very same night, he met Jason on the roof of the manor. He was surprised, unpleasantly so, because what the hell was Jason fucking doing here? He had no business on these grounds any longer. And he never explained.

They spoke, Dick didn't really remember what about anymore, not over the desires he was trying and failing to push down. Looking at him now, the man he'd grown into, so wounded, beautiful.... Dick  _needed_  to be near Jason. Needed to  _touch_  him,  _taste_  him. Seeing him again, it was too much too fast. It reignited that bonfire he'd been trying to douse for years.

Dick allowed the haze to lead him and somehow, they kissed. It might have been the best moment of his entire life when Jason didn't throw him off in disgust as he'd half anticipated. For the blink of an eye, Jason so easily gave him what he'd obsessively sought after for years and he would swear, their hearts beat to the same intoxicating rhythm. 

But, the fuzzy dream couldn't last and when Dick realised what he was doing,  _truly_  doing, that thing he hated so much, he took it out of Jason. That fucking gross queer,  _poisoning_  him! Dick wanted him to stop existing when he hit him, hoping the blow would end him once and for all. It didn't and Jason had the goddamn gall to look like a puzzled little puppy dog when he knew damn well what he was doing.

Shit happened and when next he saw Jason, he knew he needed to jump to the last resort to end this damn spell the street urchin had cast. Without sugar coating it, he killed Jason. In cold blood with the promise, that he'd finally done what needed doing. Turns out, it was the wrong one so, of course, it didn't work.

To, once and for all,  _end_  it, Dick needed to run a batarang across his Jason's throat or plunge it into his chest or do something! The other world's Jason's blood didn't wash his mind clean. Nothing but the Knight's death would cure him, like it had when he thought Jason was dead for those five blissful years.

And Dick had just the way to close the book on this madness. He knew exactly how he was going to kill Jason. Stabbing him? That had been thoughtless,  _crude_. For all the trouble he'd caused but also those scattered few good times, Jason deserved a far more intimate death.

" Dick? Hey,  _Dick-_!"

Snapping out his thoughts with a jolt, Dick realised Tim was speaking to him, and had been for god-knows how long. He turned back from the monitors of the Bat's intelligence network, shifting to face Tim, standing a few meters away with a distance Dick knew was intentionally long. The boy had learned fast to respect boundaries that would keep him from getting hurt, even if he did still have an ugly habit of interrupting and questioning the Bat. Those flaws would straighten out with time and plenty of schooling. Jason learned, didn't he?

" What, Tim?" Dick asked, meeting Tim's hesitant eyes. Dick had always liked how pastel blue they were, effortlessly intelligent. He'd always been careful around the fact that he was well aware Tim was light years smarter than himself, but there were plenty of strings to pull and keep him in check. Keep him from.... Having any reckless ideas as to his predicament's solutions.

" Can I talk to you?" Tim was obviously timid when he asked, one hand tightening around his upper arm.

" It's about Jason."

At the mention of the name he hated to remember, Dick's attention was spiked, be it begrudgingly. He really needed to put Jason into the ground and fast because this shit with him was getting way too repetitive.

" What about Jason?"

" He..." Tim took a breath through his nose before he could begin, and with his hesitance to speak his mind, Dick could bet something to do with Barbara had put him up to this. She really did plant stupid ideas in his head.

" We're wasting a lot of time and resources on tracking him down."

" Yes," Dick nodded curtly. " Yes, we are. It's necessary to retrieve him."

"  _Is it_?" Tim pried, tipping his head ever so slightly to the side. Was he trying to look like a curious Robin with that gesture? Because he was coming off more like someone who wanted a strife.

" I mean, he - he's not gonna cause a paradox where he is, not after.... not since he's the only version of himself alive there. He's not causing us any harm if he's not even on the same plane of existence. Jason is someone else's problem, so why don't we stop trying to make him ours again?"

When Dick didn't say anything to reply to the overly opinionated question, Tim stiffened visibly, perhaps realising how outspoken he'd been. He cast his gaze down onto the ground and rightfully so, that's where Dick wanted to put him. But he held back despite the restraint not coming easy.

" Jason is a dangerous criminal, Tim." Dick began to explain, and the way his voice came out, so gentle and soft, hiding all the hardness, he could see how it unsettled Tim more than if he'd lashed out.

" He's killed tens of people, in cold blood, hasn't he?"

"  _Dee_ , he's sick-"

"  _Hasn't_  he?" Dick pushed, diminishing any argument Tim might have wanted to present just by he allowing an undertone of threat into his tone.

"  _Yes_." Tim nodded briskly, agreeing the way a Robin should. One of Jason's outstanding flaws was that he disobeyed Batman and he did it a lot. Dick was glad Tim needed so little correction not to. He'd been well trained.

" He killed Bruce."

If Tim had a different opinion, like a good Robin, he didn't make it known and bobbed his head  _yes_  again.

" And we can't leave him for our counterparts to suffer with, not when we full well know he'll turn Gotham into a burned out crater. Their version of Jason was obviously weak, or he wouldn't have been killed so easily. They're not prepared for what the Knight can do."

Tim swallowed carefully while he ran all this through his head and Dick gave him all the time he needed to do it. He understood it was difficult for Tim when his predecessor was a murderous lunatic.

" And," Tim began, a bit slow when he did. " When he's brought back here, we're gonna help him, right? He's not evil, Dick. He's just... really messed up."

Dick's gaze attenuated a fraction, his patience letting up a smidge because Jason  _was_  evil. He'd always been, since he was fucking Robin. How else could his insistent drive to ruin Dick's life be explained?

" We'll do what has to be done."

" Dick, you killed-" Tim's words caught in his throat when Dick's hand suddenly appeared around it, squeezing hard enough to remind him of his place, and that place was far from where he had any grounds to question his superiors in.

Tim was making irritating choking sounds when Dick crushed his fingers tighter around him, his hands trembling around Dick's wrist but he knew better than to kick or struggle. Those pretty eyes Dick had always liked for their intelligence were now shot wide and scared, staring directly at him while adorably confused as to when he would stop.

" Haven't I told you, Timmy," Dick pulled him in real close, lips a centimetre from his ear and with personal space disregarded, he could fully hear the tremor in Tim's stuttering raspy inhales. He was so preciously afraid. A Robin should never think too highly of themselves beside the Dark Knight.

" That you don't question me? I'm fucking Batman, so remember who you are,  _Robin_." With that, he tossed Tim back and made sure, it was hard enough for him not to regain his balance. Being on the floor should serve as a reminder.

Tim saved himself a broken face when he caught himself with his hands, palms undoubtedly stinging while he was coughing and rubbing the collar of bruises around his neck, old and newly forming alike.

" You're not Batman." Tim muttered, almost too silent and distorted by his strained voice to be made out, but Dick heard it loud and clear. Had Tim just dared to say that? No way he would have.

"  _What_?"

Realising that hadn't gone unheard, Tim had a dangerous urge not to care. He shot a leer up at Dick, an expression set on his face that wouldn't have looked out of place on Jason's, so angry and dark it overpowered the fact that he knew he should be scared. He was, yeah, but he couldn't always bring himself to be Dick's willing punching bag.

Rising a tad unsteadily, Tim tipped his head back a fraction to meet Dick's gaze, it was one of outrage and disbelief, so to make him believe it, Tim repeated what he'd said, only clearer this time.

" I said you're fucking  _not_  Batman. Bruce was, an' he'd  _hate_  what you're doing."

And interlude of silence passed and Tim couldn't tell if it was because he'd stunned Dick wordless. Either way, he knew he'd kicked a hornet's nest. Fight or flight is a strange instinct, the most primal survival method humankind had, and most didn't know there was something in between those two:  _freeze_. Realising the extent of what he let slip out, Tim now knew freeze was a very real thing.

"  _Tim_ ," Disturbingly, Dick smiled at that point, showing his teeth and they'd never looked more like that of a wolf's.

" Taking classes from Jason, I see." When he spoke, a quiet sort of madness crept onto his features, somehow competing with Joker for the title of most terrifying facial expression of Gotham.

Tim knew it then, clear as day, that he should fucking  _bolt_ , because whenever Dick brought Jason up, blood was sure to spill. It was an unintentional warning.

Tim  _should_  have bolted but... He didn't.

* * *

 

Jason gave a low, humourless laugh when Bruce finished sucker punching him for answers regarding Hood's location, realising how fast the method was going nowhere with the cue being the call he got, leaving Jason bound to a support pillar ensuring the cave's roof stayed up while he went to answer the caller on his monitor. 

" Happy yet?" Jason grinned, revealing the blood in his teeth. The blows hadn't been excessively hard and even if they were, Jason had an extremely high pain tolerance and no desire whatsoever to release any of the concern he saw in Bruce. He took what amusement he could get from it. Desperate as he was to find Hood, concerned to boot, Jason found it interesting that Bruce was hesitant to hurt him as bad as they both knew would be a cinch for him. Maybe that was because he, at the end of the day, was the same man Bruce was after? Aww, couldn't he hurt his baby birdie? 

" You're wastin' your time, Bats." Jason taunted, as if he were completely oblivious as to who had the upper hand. Bruce ignored his commentary when he listened to whatever gingersnap was ringing him about. Jason knew it was him, just the traces of accent he caught revealed it. Funny how he'd gotten so familiar with Harper in the week he'd barely managed to keep this charade up for. He did subconsciously wonder what the 'snap's reaction would be once he was notified of what was truly going on. Even if he was as dumb as a boot, given how much he seemed to care about Hood, Jason had no doubts this'd wreck him.

_**" You're not guilty for his sake, are you? What are you, a marshmallow now? The Knight doesn't feel remorse! Especially not over such a tragically hilarious turn of events."** _

_" You didn't kill him, though, Jason. You're just saying you did to get back at Bruce and you're not getting anything from doing it. If you help him, you'll have a much better chance of helping yourself."_

At the sound of a voice of reason, Joker gave a long, irritated huff of a sigh. 

_**" 'Scuse me, Jason. Seems dear little Robin got his stitches off."** _

_" N - no, Joker, no."_ Courage suddenly forgotten, that became a whimpery plead followed by the scrape of a cast iron object across a concrete floor that existed only in Jason's head. He proceeded to ignore them, as he did as often as he could, keeping his mind riveted to how he was going to make Bruce's life miserable. Bruce was saying things like,

" He was _where_? Alright. He's alright? No, no, go see Leslie right a way. I'll be there as soon as I can." 

And Jason saw it fit to interrupt him,

" Hood's dead, y'know. You won't find him."  He continued and it half occurred to him, that he was no better than the goddamn clown when he hung this over the Bat's head....  _oh_  well! He'd long since given up caring.

" Is that so?" Bruce inquired, scepticism evident when he turned, a new shade of cold anger burning on him. That was the face Bruce always had on when he'd acquired important information. 

" Roy just called. He's got a different story to yours."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ".... it was difficult for Tim when his predecessor was a murderous lunatic." Isn't this Dick's exact description?


	12. Chaos Untold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys soooo much for the wave of support the last chapter got. I really needed all those wonderful comments to get me through a shit week.

" You still mad at me?" Roy cautiously inquired and sitting on the edge of Leslie's examination table while she was off running a few tests in the other room, Jason refused to face him. In fact, his refusal was so strong he'd turn his head around whenever Roy tried circling him for eye contact. He gave that up pretty quick.

Jason not answering was pretty much affirmation and disheartened, Roy lowered his eyes to study the IV running from a bag of clear fluids into the inside of his boyfriend's elbow, gaze lingering on it until it flitted back to Jason in seconds.

" I'd be mad at me too." He continued and still to no reaction from the other. " I'm so sorry I - that I didn't realise he wasn't you, even if he technically is."

When Jason made to move his arm, a quick hope darted through Roy's head that he was going to say something, but he only brushed his newly snowy bangs out his face and proceeded to regard a specific tile on the wall with the longest thousand-yard stare, trying to not hear a word being spoken. Jason's skills of dissociation were truly remarkable when he wanted them that way.

" He just looks so much like you," Roy continued to press, as if explaining the obvious facts Jason was well aware of was the solution. He probably had noticed the similarities he bore to his identical.

" An' he was pretty convincing," No, he  _wasn't_. He didn't even try. " Or, I - I mean, I kept looking for everything in the wrong place and..." Dammit, this explaining thing was going horribly, and perhaps that was because there was no valid explanation? In what reality could Roy justify not noticing his partner in life and work, had been replaced by a look-alike. It was one thing if other-Jaybird had been a mind-blowing actor, if he'd been fucking Heath Ledger incarnate, but that was far from the case. And if there'd been no dots to connect, maybe Roy could brew up an excuse out of more than thin air.

But fuck  _no_ , he didn't need to decide against excuses when there was no way he'd try blame someone else for his stupid mistakes.

Roy sighed, his posture slackening a degree while he hopelessly eyed Jason, who insistently ignored his existence.

" I'm sorry, okay? I know I'm fucking stupid. I shoulda seen it sooner, an' I get why you're pissed at me."

" I'm  _not_ ," Jason finally broke his silence, tightening his hands around the edge of the table until his knuckles shone white through the thin skin over them, squeezing like he had a grudge with the item of furniture.

"...  _pissed_  at you."

Roy's brows rose a fraction, really wishing Jason would look at him enough to say, but considering he'd been let out of the silent treatment just barely, eye contact seemed like a bit of a big ask. Baby steps.

" You're  _not_?"

Jason breathed a long, slow breath and finally, he turned enough to regard Roy with more than the one sentence. Immediately, Roy unwittingly focused on how his eyes hadn't reverted to their true colour yet, and the archer was beginning to lose hope they would. On the way over to the clinic, Jason hadn't yet been in his right mind enough to hit him with mute, and Roy'd learned a great disturbing deal about Jason's week. Such as Batman - who was really  _Dick_ , from the dimension other-Jaybird was from, stabbing him dead in a case of mistaken identity.  (Secretly, Roy was relieved beyond words other-Jay hadn't killed his Jay; less reason for anyone to hurt him).

Then the bizarre way the Pit reactivated in his body and resurrected him a second time, part of it forever in him, as damning as it was an unrequested gift in some instances.

None of  _that's_  confusing at all.

"  _No_ , I'm not mad. Not a lot." Jason claimed but he looked more annoyed than Bruce did when he'd sat through one of Oliver's rants. He was blatantly lying.

" Then what are you?"

" I'm just trying to fucking process the past week,  _okay_?" Jason bit, almost taking Roy's head off with the abrupt ferocity he used.

" Jay, I-"

" Believe it or not, it's fucking  _a lot_  to be killed by a man who looks like your brother and dresses like your father, then to crawl out your own damn grave for the second time, only t - to realise that-" Jason paused when his voice cracked and he swallowed deeply, turning his attention back to the wall tile.

"... That you were replaced and no one realised." He started kicking his legs, slowly at first but he sped up, heels crashing off the legs of the table. Slow as he was, Roy finally understood the main issue Jason had here, despite the completely obvious. He crawled back into a world where his initial realisation had been someone else wearing his name, holding his position, seeing it through the eyes of old cold experience instead of what it was; an  _awful_  mistake.

" Babe, it's not like that." Roy tried, landing himself the umpteenth mental nutshot of the evening for being as blind as he was.

" Then what's it like,  _Roy_?" Jason's attention snapped back to the archer and this time, Roy was gazed at through emotion glistening damp over the fresh green. Jason's lower lip was tinged deep red and dark blue from where he'd been biting down on it.

" You didn't even know that wasn't me. You  _still_  wouldn't know if I hadn't told you."

Roy exhaled, shoulders sagging inward because most likely, that was true. Bruce didn't seem surprised when he was informed of other-Jaybird, he probably figured it out hours before, which left Roy feeling even more awful and rotten.

" What's the point of having you, if you can't tell me apart from any piece of trash you find outside?"

" He's your  _genetic identical_ , Jason. You two have more than a few things in common. I didn't-" Roy tried, but his partner would never allow it.

"  _Oh_ , you mean like the fucking J we both have branded on our face? Is it the dark blue eyes that I don't have? Maybe it's that he talks to himself and doesn't remember any of the shit I've done. Am I  _fucking_  warm yet, Roy?"

Rolling his now  _green_  eyes at Roy's silence, Jason scoffed when he turned away. Roy would have tried to prevent him from doing that, had he not still been holding a 9 mm like a holy relic.

" Knew you'd have nothing to say. Lemme guess, all he needed to do is make out with you, an' you had no desire to raise suspicion?"

Roy shook his head no, thinking back to the instances where it was vice versa; he'd kissed the other. Could Jason stomach that? No.  _No_ , he didn't need that weighing on his mind now with the metric ton already parked on his shoulders.

" No, we didn't... do anything. I... I don't think he liked me very much..."

" I wonder why?" Sarcastic despite how visibly upset he was, the corners of Jason's lips pulled up into an artificial smile, the kind that was a safeguard for him.

" Maybe he's got an idiot Roy, too?"

"  _N_... No. He didn't know who I was at first."

" Well, there's certainly something you two  _don't_  have in common. Too bad that was never a giveaway." Didn't Jason say  he  _wasn't_  annoyed at Roy? Liar. A liar who couldn't be blamed, but a liar nonetheless.

" C'mon, Jay..."

" Oh my  _god_ _-_!" Jason stared at him, wide-eyed and for a moment, Roy through something was actually wrong with him. Or...  _wronger_?

" Did you just  _assume_  who I am? Hasn't that gotten you-"

Clicking his tongue in frustration, Roy cut Jason off by pressing their lips together, transforming Jason's flow of words into a muffled, annoyed noise but he didn't back it up with protesting. In fact, he didn't do a thing. Life humming through Jason's veins, warmth beneath Roy's touch, he tried not to think on the fact that not so long ago, it hadn't. That... was daunting.  _Horrifying_. Heartbreaking. All the worst things at once.

It didn't last long and when they broke apart, Jason was glaring at Roy, and instead of encouraging him with another litany of mumbled sorrys and grasping at straws, the arched cupped his partner's angry face in both hands, rubbing soft circles into his cheeks with his thumbs. He brought them closer, the tips of their noses touching, really giving him an up close and personal on the understated irritation coming off Jason in heat waves.

" I know it's not a good enough reason," Roy started, relieved Jason chose not to interrupt this time. Maybe he had some shot of bringing this whole thing down a bit?

" But I've never nitpicked you for problems, so I didn't see  _him_  the way I should have. I.. I dunno what it is..." Roy's gaze wanted to flit off to another place to find his words, but the way Jason held it unerringly captive in steel, couldn't.

"... Maybe 'cause to me, you're perfect, babe. When I thought that was you, it's cause I don't look for mistakes or flaws or anything like that in you. I didn't once think 'you' were what's wrong."

Now passive, thinking, Jason blinked a few times before he replied in a truly heartfelt manner,

"..... That's cheesy as  _fuck_ , Roy." And thus, he wrecked the mood Roy'd tried to cast like a pinprick through a water balloon, but the archer found himself not minding with the flicker of a real smile he saw on Jason's face, too amused by the unintentionally honey-sweet apology to harbour his justifiable anger.

" Did it work, at least?" Roy asked and when Jason leaned in to initiate a kiss himself this time, Roy guessed yes, even if the word no was mumbled into his mouth. There wasn't much pressure to the act of locking lips, not a whole lot of energy and no ulterior motive whatsoever, maybe just Jason's way of letting Roy know he was on the road to being forgiven without actually having to word it. Jason had probably had it with explaining things to Roy for a while. Who could blame him?

Jason sort of nibbled his way into the kiss, delicately working his jaw in small, subtle movements with tender care that couldn't be associated with the man who just wrecked Arkham asylum in under half an hour. Roy moved his hands from Jason's face, allowing one to fall while the other carded through Jason's hair, trying not to be put off by the jelly globs of stifling blood matting strands of it together.

Don't think about. Don't think about it. Don't think about whose this is-

"- _Jason_ ," Roy pulled back, breaking free with a wet pop, and stalled, Jason appeared a tad puzzled at his sudden retraction, lips parted a millimetre while he awaited explanation.  _God_ , he was so gorgeous when uncertainty entered his eyes, it made him look less goddamn fixed on the multitude of problems he was trying to solve in his head, frowning all the while. Just for a beat, it could make him less angry and after what Roy had witnessed at the asylum, he needed to see that.

" There - a lot of people died in that asylum..."

Breathing out rather harshly when he realised what this was about, Jason pushed Roy away from him with his hand, wrist bending all the way back with the strength he used and taking the hint, the archer took a step back while his partner once again, found his interests deeply invested in the wall. This time, Roy waited while Jason sat,  _thinking_.

"... I remember," Jason began after a while and his voice sounded far away, as if he was narrating looking back on something. It looked like his soul had vacated his body and left the answering machine whirring.

" That when I first came back, the Pit was... was screaming, so,  _so_  loud that it was all I could listen to, not my own screaming, my heartbeat, Talia's voice sayin'..... All I could hear was this....  _drumming_?.... It was in my head and I couldn't -  _I_  couldn't get it  _out_." Jason paused, swallowing, tongue darting flicker-fast over his lip and Roy wanted to immediately take his words back, to save Jason the discomfort he was so clearly experiencing. Unable to do that, however, he stretched his arm out and covered Jason's hand with his own, fingers curling around. It seemed to help a little.

" It... I don't think they were words  _it_  was saying, but I understood what it wanted....." Jason trailed off and although Roy waited for him to pick up, minutes later and he still hadn't.

" What did it want, babe?"

" Can't say." Jason shook his head lightly, yet to remove his now strained gaze off a spot Roy was sure his relentless stare was burning a hole into. By now, his eyes were watering but he refused to blink to ease the irritation.

" There are some things people should never hear. Some secrets that.... that the living shouldn't ever know. I've never told anyone what it told me and I never will. _Including_ you." And Roy, he didn't doubt that. Without the conviction of a blood oath in the way Jason spoke, Roy would have believed him, his boyfriend's ominous recollections enough to make him strongly believe he wanted this secrecy to stay between them.

" An - an I  _couldn't_  cope with it, I had to get it out. There were a couple guys there - Talia's goons, trained assassins and.... well, Talia didn't recognise them afterwards.... You see, Roy," Jason broke away from his fixation on the wall and met Roy's line of sight, perhaps a bit more intensely than the archer was prepared for.

" The Pit takes whatever hatred, anger, bloodlust,  _rage_ , you've ever felt and it magnifies it. Not once. Not twice. More times than there are numbers in creation and then, all you want is to  _kill_. I couldn't do anything to stop it then but... this time, it was different. Not much, but still,  _different_."

Brow furrowing, Roy leaned closer in to ask, " How do you mean?"

" I managed not to... kill any of the staff, people just doing their job. I knew not to kill them." Jason explained that like he, honest to god, had no clue where the restraint had been birthed. Nothing to do with literal hours of 'thou shall not kill' lectures. 

" But..." It should be noted that Roy  _hated_  to say this. " You did kill a lot of inmates, people who were sick. Some of 'em had it comin', yeah, but-"

" Oh _god_. Bruce is gonna flay me." As if the magnitude of what he'd done only hit now, Jason groaned, burying his face in his hands and digging his fingers into it, a worried, shuddery exhale escaped him like a wounded whimper, revealing more distress by that notion alone than anything he'd said so far, and they hadn't exactly been bedtime stories he'd been retelling.

" He - he's gonna fucking murder me." Jason went on. An intense surge of natural protective instinct rising like a wave from the depths, Roy looped his arm around his partner's drawn-in shoulders, pulling him closer until they were touching again, Jason's bowed head a suitable rest for his.

" No, he's not. I'll make sure nothing happens to you, 'kay?"

" He'll kill you, too." Jason replied, difficult to make out against his refusal to come out from where he was trying to hide; a  _ball_.

" If you don't want, babe, we don't gotta go anywhere near him-"

" Alright." Leslie sighed when she came in, perhaps unintentionally loud, eyeing the papers on her clipboard through the clear lenses of her half-moon glasses, completely oblivious to what she'd just broken up.

"Got the results from the blood tests back."

Roy's ears pricked, back straightening but he never unwound himself from around Jason, who - with worrying about Bruce - didn't seem too interested in what the doctor had to say.

" Everything okay with 'im, Les?"

" His blood sugar is a little low, but that could just be from malnourishment. Get some food in him and it shouldn't be a problem." Leslie began, flicking through her wad of papers, her lack of urgency a comfort to Roy. Must mean nothing was seriously wrong with Jaybird.

" Stress levels are skyrocketing.... heart rate is a bit too quick, typical after an adrenaline spike, it should come down soon.... blood pressure should, too. All in all," Leslie took her attention from the charts and cast it on them. The poor woman looked knackered, but what else could be expected when wounded vigilantes appeared on her doorstep at all unearthly hours of the night, leaking blood and guts. She was Gotham's true hero.

" He's fairing remarkably well."

" I don't need to stay under observation, do I?" Jason asked, finally looking up but still resting his head on Roy's shoulder. He eerily resembled a tired puppy, the kind with the floppy ears and big soft eyes that could melt your heart.

" No, you're good to go, sweetheart." Leslie told him. She's always had a strange fondness for Jason, but then again, you can only save someone's life so many times before you become attached.

On her all-clear, Jason slid off the table and reached for his jacket, sitting beside him until now. He slipped his arms in through the sleeves and Roy noticed how it was a little tight around his shoulders and biceps, a testimony to how young he'd actually been since he first dawned the hood. He'd grown since then, the original jacket fitting less well, but that wasn't really noticeable for anyone who didn't rely on keen eyesight as much as an archer did.

" But for the next few days, no crazy stunts, you hear, Jason? Keep your heart rate down." Leslie said -  _ordered_. " No risky missions, no fights, no parkour, and for heaven's sake, don't get into an argument with Bruce." She advised, knowing full well by now, that those ended in bruises and stitches more often than not.

" Not sure I can avoid it, Leslie." Jason admitted and didn't seem at all happy for it. Glancing at him, the foreboding displeasure on his features, Roy snaked his arm around his partner's waist, lessening the space between them protectively. Jason went with it, looking nothing less than hopeless.

" I won't let anythin' happen to him. Don't worry, Leslie." Roy promised, even if that meant he'd be having to mouth off to the Bat in place of Jason - a  _terrifying_  prospect. But, after mistaking him for another for over a week, that seemed like the least he could do. Still, he held onto the teeny bit of hope that Bruce would be sympathetic to the situation. It's not like Jason randomly decided to go berserk. There was a number of reasons behind it and just one of them would have been enough to excuse.

" Let's head to the cave, yeah?" Roy suggested and Jason agreed, dipping his head, expression dark.

" I still need to play whack-a-mole with my twin." He said and Roy chose not to tell him, that was not why they were going there - though, he wouldn't stop Jason if he wanted to pass out a few hits, it wasn't exactly undeserved. Not usually the tactician, Roy reasoned that with Dick and Alfred in the same building, Bruce was less likely to go at Jason, and if he did, than one if not both of the aforementioned people would stop him.

Roy truly didn't want it to come to that.

* * *

 

" You're not amusing anyone by lying, Jason."

" I'm  _not_?" Jason feigned surprise, raising his brows and widening his eyes until they strained. " I thought I was friggin' hilarious."

If he hadn't been scary before, Bruce narrowed his eyes, worsening the rolls of crinkles Jason had been counting as they formed on his forehead. So far, three. Could he hit four? Four meant he could reward himself with trying the ropes for their security.

" Roy called. He knows you didn't kill your counterpart. My son."

" Gingersnap said that? Jesus, you're trusting that leprechaun over  _moi_?" He blinked his eyes prettily, batting his lashes to wedge himself deeper underneath Bruce's skin, which is exactly where he ended up. Like with Roy, Jason didn't bother trying to disguise the fact that he was lying on a pathological scale; he didn't attempt masking his body language, leaving it out there in the open where Bruce could read it like the spread pages of a book. Good, maybe he'd believe Hood was dead and the nuisance was talking shit. He knew the 'snap was mentally handicapped, but _this_? Good Lord....

" Y'know what they say? That every freckle on a redhead marks a lie they've told."

 ** _" No one says that, Jason. Even I know as much_**."

" Well, see, the saying goes something like that." Jason replied to the voice, not giving a fuck that Bruce was observing the conversation.

_**" Boyo, never in all my years of life or even death, have I heard that saying."** _

" Then you're not up with the times. Like, d'you-"

_**" It's not a thing, Jay-lad! Fun as it is to mess with Brucey's head, do it with fact!"** _

" Oh my god,  _really_?" Jason chuckled. "  _You're_  saying that? I-"

" Who are you speaking to, Jason?" Bruce asked and, much to Jason's confusion, the aloof in him had mildened to what it might have sounded like if he were asking a question of Hood. Even though, Jason wasn't phased if this was some sort of carrot he was offering. He  _wasn't_  telling him where he stowed the corpse.

" Oh, y'know," Jason tipped his head with a wide smile, far enough to nudge the brand against his shoulder, the mark still remaining hidden. " Just the voices in my head."

Nodding a grim acknowledgement, Bruce asked, " Do you hear them often?"

" Only every day, every hour, every minute, second...." Jason leaned in closer, until his arms strained and still he kept pushing, really liking how the small shifts in Bruce's dark untelling eyes allowed a rare glimpse into the man's mind, who was so rarely unsettled. Bruce didn't take a step back, allowing Jason to come to the limit of his reach and whisper into his ear,

" And they  _never_  shut up." Finishing with a grin, his breath shuddered with the bit of laughter he tried to bite back. He knows he must look crazy.

" What do they say?" Unphased, Bruce continued, trying to lead him into a sense of false security if he seemed worried, Jason reasoned. He'd seen it before, multiple times with multiple people who'd come and gone. Bruce didn't  _believe_  him, no one did, he just wanted to know where Jason had buried his precious Hood.

Still, Jason had never told anyone the things spoken in his head, so this should be interesting, at least. He hoped Bruce would get a kick out of his insanity.

" Some aren't bad, just annoying." Jason began, a bit hesitant even if he did want to see what Bruce's reaction would be. Jason's money was on him being called out for crying wolf. Not like  _that_  hadn't happened before.

" What does 'not bad' mean?"

" I dunno. Like -  _I_   _dunno_ , not telling me to kill people, I guess?" Jason tilted his head with the thought, a tad unsure now that it came to it. Those were the good ones, right?

" And the bad ones?"

Beginning to lose his humour, Jason eyed Bruce, trying to figure out what his angle was with these questions. Did he think Jason'd slip up and accidentally tell where the body was? Confess to not being the one who ran Hood through?  _No_! He wasn't about to let himself be manipulated by these fucking bats again. Whatever the hell Bruce was really after, he wasn't going to get it by pretending he  _cared_.

" The bad ones want me to kill people.  _Hurt_  them." Jason's eyes narrowed till they disrupted a clear range of sight, and without his knowledge, darkened when he was expecting Bruce to call bullshit on him any moment. So far, he hadn't.

Maybe Jason'd have to try a bit harder to disturb the old geezer.

" They remind me of really,  _really_  bad things. People I've killed, things that've been done to me, what I've done.... things that I  _can't_  talk about." Muscles stiff, Jason was prepared for the demand to know, despite what he said, but that didn't come either.

" And no one has helped you with this?"

Jason scoffed, disbelieving _he'd_ actually said that. He had a good mind to burst out with one form of scream or other, shatter this illusion Bruce was trying to assemble, but the sound of someone's pounding footsteps descend the stone steps leading up to the manor did it for him. Just by his stride, Jason recognised Dick, that tap-tap-tap of his light but hurried steps forever etched into his mind.

"  _B_ ," Dick appeared within seconds to being heard, face representing the nearest thing to urgency that Jason imagined Dick Grayson could feel. He regarded Jason with a half intrigued glance but raised no question as to why he was bound and a new dark crust of blood drying on his lip. Maybe Bruce had filled him in on tidbits, but wouldn't he have reacted more extremely to his punching bag's death if he knew?

" Someone - some lunatic - got into Arkham with a gun an' shot the whole place up. We don't have a body count yet and the SOS only came through know 'cause the shooter cut the communication-"

" It's Jason. He was at Arkham." Stepping in the way of Dick finishing his sentence, Bruce announced, all-knowing and darker all-of-a-sudden, adopting the expression that Jason knew he wore when he was expecting a takedown. Had... had Hood really somehow survived that? _No_! He was dead when Jason checked. Dead when he was tossed into the grave and dead when the dirt was moved over.

**_" Wouldn't it be an interesting plot twist if he weren't? I mean, I'm sure the audience would lose it if the creator left him dead!"_ **

" Wh - what. Are you  _talking_  about?"

" Bruce -  _no_." Dick said before the clown would answer Jason, stepping between Bruce and the Batmobile he'd already been headed to, his arms apart wide as he stared up at the taller man.

" Move,  _Richard_. I need to find Jason." Bruce tried to shoo him aside but he didn't go anywhere, as persistent as Jason had ever seen him, and he was hoping they'd fight or something. It'd be interesting and equally satisfying to have someone break Dick's pretty face.

" If anything fake-Jay says is true, then something is seriously wrong with Jason for him to have done that."  _Fake_? Last time Jason checked, he was very much real.

" Which is why we need to find-"

" You two are just going to end up fighting and make everything worse." Dick went on and Jason must admit, as the spectator, he was surprised and puzzled by Dick's argument, because it seemed like he didn't want his counterpart getting hurt.... _why_?

_**" Thought you said he wasn't alive, Jaybee...."** _

" Let  _me_  go look for him." The Romani urged and it fell to all but deaf ears. Bruce took him by his shoulders and lifted him to the side effortlessly, stepping past.

" The documents Barbara went over showed all the points in Gotham that are particularly susceptible to wormholes. Eight in total. We already have one alternate Jason. Who's to say there aren't more-"

" There better  _fucking_  not be." Bruce, Dick, Jason,  _Joker_ , all their collective attention snapped to the newcomer - or,  _newcomers_. Gingersnap came into the cave with an expression of anxiousness, a few strides behind who looked like.... wait -  _Hood_? White in his hair, solid poisonous eyes, covered head-to-heels in bruises and cuts but it was, undoubtedly,  _him_. Alive and.... alive.

" Jason?" Dick stared at the ugly state Hood was in and Jason... he wasn't sure what was going on anymore. Hood and his squeeze  _here_? Only one of them should be able to be going walkabyes.

_**" Told you! I totally called it! He ain't dead."** _

Bruce and Dick said a number of things to Hood, all things he ignored, pushed aside because he walked right up to Jason, and the way their gazes met, unsure on murderously angry, made Jason shiver, pressing himself against the pillar as far as he could.

" Now look who's all tied up." Hood spat, seething and that was far from unclear. He reached out and Jason couldn't flinch back like he wanted to, powerless to do anything when the edge of the graze plaster was pinched between Hood's fingers and peeled back, with a flush of cold air revealing the brand for all to see.

" Just so we're all clear," Hood said, tossing the mask away while Jason felt Bruce and Dick and gingersnap staring at the hideous scar, and that alone made him want to crawl within himself.

"  _This_ " - he pointed - " _thing_ is not me." Hood declared loudly, while Jason shifted against his binds with nervous uncertainty. What the hell was going on? He saw Hood.  _Dead_. This couldn't be him but... it was... That's it. He'd finally gone completely mad.

**_" Choo choo! All aboard for the Crazy Town express!"_ **

What other option was there? None! He was now full on fucking  _nuts_!

Jason wasn't sure if the chuckle of realisation was in his head or if he let it slip into the world, but by the brows raised by a select few, he guessed it must have. Of all the things he could have said to the imaginary Hood, one only existing in his head just like the voices were, staring at the bleach blond on black locks covering his brow, Jason chose these words,

"What the  _hell_  happened to your hair?"

Instead of humouring him with a reply, Hood flat out punched him.

* * *

 

When Tim came home, he had a black eye, swollen almost shut. His lip was torn at the edge and the blood was drying, but its taste didn't waver; prominently bitter in his mouth. He was limping when he stepped through the door to his and his girlfriend's studio apartment, hip dangerously close to popping out its socket if he didn't get off his feet soon.

Dick could have killed him.  _Would_  have killed him, had he not still possessed half a grain of restraint in him. Truth be told, Tim didn't know why he got off so easy after disrespecting the Bat the way he did, but he had a lingering suspicion that Dick was saving all his pent-up aggression for whatever he had planned for Jason. Fucking _lunatic_.

Breathing a soft, tired sigh, Tim pushed the door to and wanted to slide down it until he was on the ground. Why was everything so damn difficult? 

" Oh my god,  _Tim_." He heard the creak of the wheelchair approach before he opened his eyes to Barbara, her usually placid face bearing the marks of concern mixed with anger. 

" Dick did this,  _didn't_  he?" She demanded and, she wasn't wrong. Why did she know who the culpable one was without a wavering doubt? Well, Tim promised Bruce he'd take care of Gotham. That was before he died and tonight's conversation with the current cowl bearer proved he'd never change. Dick absolutely could not be reasoned with. It was time he held true to his vow, even if that meant protecting Gotham from its  _protector_.  So, of course, after reliving that nightmare of Jason too many times, he couldn't live with it; he'd had to tell everything Barbara when every other escape had been cut off. He wasn't about to let Dick repeat what he'd already taken out on the wrong person.

And unlike that one time he tried talking to the League about Dick, Barbara didn't doubt him a second.

" He did." Tim nodded, pushing away from the wall and limping to the couch, where he all but collapsed and wanted to sink into the soft cushions, never to surface again. He wondered if there was another world down there? A nice little safe haven for abused and tired Robins.

" You were right, Barbie," Tim sighed when Barbara joined him, her expression none the softer. To his surprise, she had a medi-kit in her lap and was already opening it. Had she expected he'd crawl home with his tail between his legs? 'Course. An Oracle knows all.

" I can't talk him outta anything." Tim confessed while Barbara reached forth with an antiseptic wipe, dabbing it on his split lip.

" That's because Dick is crazy." Barbara deadpanned, carefully cleaning flakes of crusty crimson off him but gentleness aside, it stung. He winced lightly and she apologised, going on to say,

" But this  _was_  his last chance to back down. No more talking, Tim." Her pine green eyes met his pastel blue ones, forming a steely connection of intent.

" No," Tim agreed with a tired shake of his head. " N'more talking. He's been given enough shots. Enough."

" I did what you told me."

" You watched the footage?"

Her face losing a shade of healthy palor, Barbara nodded with a heavy swallow to hold back repulsion.

" I - I did. I can't believe what he did to Jason." Dick never took into count that the microscopic computer built into their masks recorded  _everything_. Unimportant, he said, perhaps because even with that evidence, they all knew full well the League wouldn't think a bad thing of the sweet innocent little Robin they'd watched grow up. Dick wasn't only Bruce's golden boy. 

Again, Tim nodded, though much grimmer with this one. He didn't want Barbara to have to see any of what transpired at 52, but she needed to, she'd said once she heard what happened.  She'd never looked more horrified than when she recounted it.

" We need to stop him." Barbara had no question in her voice, just anger burning low but scalding solar hot.

" Agreed."

* * *

After Bruce left with Dick, something to do with a couple dangerous go-getter inmates escaping Arkham when Jason wrecked it, Roy forced himself to do nothing but spectate with hot coals in his stomach, when his Jason whipped fist after fist across his double's face.  _Whack, whack, whack...._

Roy fidgeted with his hands, trying to convince himself he shouldn't get involved or say anything. Other-Jaybird hadn't exactly done nothing to deserve the beatdown, but that didn't make it any easier to sit through.

Was he a bad person for not wanting any Jasons getting hurt? Did that make him disloyal? 

After half swallowing Jason's reasons behind ransacking the asylum (details of his death yet to be discussed), Bruce had ordered Jason not to harm his counterpart while he needed to rush off, and here was the evidence whether he'd listened or not.  He'd hardly contained himself long enough for the Batmobile to be out the cave.

" This is much fucking better!" Jason's voice came over the beat of knuckles on flesh, though Roy wasn't sure which Jason said it when up until now, both had been strangely non-hyperverbal. He wasn't sure because he was trying to look anywhere else. 

Then other-Jay was laughing all deranged like, hardly cut-off by the punches, yelling out confusing things like,

" You hit a whole lot  _harder_  than the others do!"

" You're so fucking crazy." Jason paused long enough to shake his head in disbelief, having made an ugly blotchy mess of his knuckles, purple and black as the marks on other-Jason's face. The pain didn't have appeared to register in the Knight's broken mind, but he did flinch when Jason raised his fist again, reacting before the strike came down.

" That's enough, Jay!" Roy grabbed his partner's wrist when he swung his arm back, stopping him dead in his tracks. He couldn't watch this anymore. 

Jason's eyes melted into something dark and intensely terrifying when he turned, wrenching his limb free, squaring himself back as if to indeliberately come off as intimidating. Mission the fuck accomplished; Roy stepped back one or two spaces, sparks of brighter  _Pit_  colour flickering around his corneas. 

" You're defending  _him_  now?" 

" I - I'm not defending him," Roy tried, tried like Icarus tempting the sun's might. Both were burned in the foolish effort. 

" Then why can't I hit him, hmm,  _Harper_?" Jason pressed, attention now retracted from his twin, landing its full colossal weight onto Roy's shoulders. 

" You've done it plenty already, babe. Don't you think?" Feeble excuses, dumb reasons, grasping at any chance to talk him down, Roy didn't know what he was doing or how smart he was for it. 

" Well, I'm so fucking glad you're here to stop me, Roy. Too bad that wasn't the case when  _he_ ," Wildly, Jason gestured to the Knight, watching the transgression without so much as an emotion crossing his features. Or, maybe there was a bit of curiosity? 

" - Was beating the hell outta me." 

" Jason-"

" No, no, by all means," Jason smiled way too forcibly, near breaking his face with the falsity of it but Roy knew him well enough to know... he was hurt. Not just by this but it sure as fuck wasn't helping. But, before he could get a word in, Jason shoved past him hard enough to make his stance falter.

" Stay here to make sure he's okay while I go wash some of this earth and blood off!" Jason yelled over his shoulder and Roy knew better than to follow when he took the stairs to the manor three at a time.

" Babe, c'mon-" Roy called after before he could vanish from hearing range, but was met into a solid brick wall of very heartfelt words,

" You two can fuck each other!"

 _Slam_. That would be the door being thrown shut, sending vibrations through the building's foundations. It was the last shock of sound until all fell silent as Christmas Eve, leaving Roy to wallow in things like guilt, annoyance, and amazement over how fucking stubborn a man he'd chosen to anchor himself to. Seriously.  _Wow_.

Heart hanging heavy as the moon, Roy turned back around to the other-Jaybird with a series of mixed emotions and was regarded in turn as such, the archer having no clue what to say, or if he should say anything - even if they had Jason's blessing to screw - and his company likely wasn't speaking due to his bruised jaw.

" So..." Roy began after a good while of consideration. 

" You buried my boyfriend under an asylum and proceeded to commence identity theft?" Nice icebreaker, Roy was notorious for them.

" S'not really identity theft if we're the same person, is it?" Other-Jason said past the swelling in his face that didn't want to see his teeth part. And it couldn't be said he didn't have a valid counter-argument. 

" You sure as hell didn't notice. Tell me, wasn't it for certain factors, would you know yet?"

Roy was about to open his mouth to deliver a reply.... if he'd had one. Dammit. This was like his conversation with Jason all over again -  _right_ , this was a conversation with Jason.  He wasn't about to say anything more, if other-Jay hadn't.

" Gingersnap," he began and although he shouldn't respond to the nickname, it made Roy's attention prick. He'd  _definitely_  not grown used to it. When Roy looked up, he did everything he could not to let his gaze waver to the J burned into the Knight's face. No matter which Jason was in question, he didn't like his scars being gaped at. 

"... He's real, isn't he?  _Hood_. He's not just in my head, he's really alive?" 

Roy didn't know why, but such a vulnerable question - even if it hadn't been intended to come out that way, saddened him. Once again, he felt his sympathies shift direction when it should have been anger he felt towards the impostor. Why couldn't he feel that?

" Yes." He quietly replied with a confirming dip of his head.

".... _How_?" 

Sighing softly with no idea how else to pass the time between Jason being nuclear to when he could be spoken to without imminent risk of castration, Roy sat beside his partner's doppelganger and proceeded to tell him everything, all the gnarly little details he didn't know about how Jason came to be resurrected and the thereafter. It would probably not be bad for his mental health if he understood what happened. 

By the time Roy was somewhere near the middle of the story, around where the Outlaws first formed he thinks, other-Jason began to realise Jason's life wasn't quite as glamorous as the notion that lead him to attempt stealing it had been. 

" Wow..." Was all he could muster to say when it all drew to a close, brows raised in disbelief at half the shit his counterpart had pulled. Some of the things he'd done not only defied the laws of the universe and sense in general, but didn't care for what was possible. 

" Yep." Roy nodded when the basic summary was wrapped up, and that alone was enough for a six-part novel.

" And now that death-defying typhoon is pissed at me." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy day after Independence Day, my Finnish homeboys! 101 years of no Russian tyranny!  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> I doubt any Finns are reading this.


	13. One Day, Two Days

" And now that death-defying typhoon is pissed at me." Gingersnap finished with a long, breathless sigh that almost made Jason feel sorry for him. After seeing the hurricane Hood storm out, there was no question that his night had a high chance of becoming more miserable.

"...... He's gonna stay that way for a while, huh?"

" Would you?" The 'snap asked, brow arched with a too-knowing smirk. The man was suffering internally, despite how he may seem.

" I've never been in your situation." Jason confessed, though he didn't know why. Why were they even speaking? Like friends and not what they in truth were? Which, let's be honest, is too complicated for words.

" What, never had your boy/girlfriend pissed at you?"

" I've never, uh..." Here was a problem, Jason had never committed himself to anyone, not after  _everything_ , but he rephrased himself since...  _Reasons_.

_**" Whaat? I thought we had a thing, baby bird. Jayker was a real thing!"** _

" Yeah, tons of times."

If he noticed how fake that sounded, Roy didn't bring it up, just sat there, cross-legged, opposite to where Jason had slid down the pillar Bruce had bound him to. There... There was no hate coming off Roy despite that he knew Jason what had done to him and his partner. Was that a hero thing? No, Jason knew plenty of heroes with room for malice. Was it.... A  _gingersnap_  thing?

" I gotta know, Jason," Roy began after some while, rubbing the back of his neck as if he were nervous or something. And Jason really appreciated the small courtesy of being called by his name and not 'fake-Jay' or 'Crazy' or any of that shit.

" Why'd you do it? All this?"

It was difficult to get any words of explanation past the dam of his teeth when quite frankly, people rarely cared why Jason acted the way he did. No one thought a madman was capable of premeditation and if he was, there certainly would be no intelligent reasoning behind it, right?

" Why do you care?" Jason asked. " I mean, you've caught me. The gig's up. You win. What's it matter why I did it?" 

" Okay, well, I'll tell you a little secret," Roy leaned forward ever so slightly, arms rested on his folded legs and Jason noticed how the bruises had faded, no longer more prominent than his tattoos.

" Babe's posed as a tonne of people too. Batman; tried to kill everyone. Nightwing; went on a murder spree. God knows what he did when he was pretending to be Red Robin. And then there was this time he got his hands on some shapeshifting tech and pretended to be this ancient senator, to kill the boss of a Mexican cartel trying to smuggle weaponry over the border. So yeah," Roy finished listing and Jason tried, and tried hard to process the litany of examples he could name off the top of his head.

" You could say I got experience with Jasons pretending to be someone they're not. I don't need to know what put it into your head that it was a good idea. But," At this point, gingersnap's voice dropped to a new level of sincerity, as if he were sharing a secret he didn't want the world to hear.

" Is something so bad where you're from, that you're afraid to go back?" The way he asked that, vague but specific at once, made Jason wonder if somehow he could know more than he should. No... Jason hadn't revealed to anyone what was truly keeping him here. Other than the fact that he physically could not leave this dimension by his own devices, it was being away from people like Dick that made this place worthwhile.

But, since now they knew he wasn't their darling Hood, he didn't expect it would be long until they tossed him back through another wormhole. 

" If you don't count the fact that everyone wants me dead and the voices in my head are driving me nuts, all's just maravilloso." 

"  _Everyone_?" Roy continued to pry, ignoring that last part. " Or one person in particular?"

That's  _it_. Jason wasn't sure how, but the 'snap definitely knew about Dick's animosity against him. Scepticism alight, he eyed Roy up and down, trying to figure him out but it was like trying to glean godly wisdom from a grilled cheese sandwich;  _pointless_.

"  _Why_?" Jason felt his walls crawling back up the small space he'd let them fall.  He shouldn't have ever done that, even if Hood's squeeze had made him feel... safe, for a beat, back when identities were crisscrossed. Illusions shatter. They always do. Here's to cold hard reality. 

Then Roy sighed, in defeat it sounded, running his fingers back through his impressively lengthy hair, until they'd trailed all the way through, and he was left holding what seemed like handfuls. God, he had a lot of hair. Jason recalled Tim's used to wear his locks like that and absently asked himself why he ever cut it. 

" Because, Jason," Roy continued when he lowered himself from correct posture back into a slump, spine more arched than looked comfortable.

" Jason -  _my_  Jason, told me what happened when he was stabbed."

" Zsasz-"

" No.  _Not_  Zsasz." Roy shook his head, debunking latter assumptions. He looked grim all of a sudden, as if reluctant over something. What didn't he want to say? Jason's gaze attenuated to go over him again, trying to pry the information out visually. But, Roy was used to Jason to the point where he didn't come off as threatening.

" Jason told me...." Roy tried to pick up but faltered in his intent somewhat. Though he did manage to muster his courage when he said,

" He told me that Batman did it.  _Your_  Batman. He... Thought it was you." 

Jason's eyes widened and without thinking, he stupidly went,

"  _No_." Firm. Unyielding to an alternative opinion. " No. He - he'd never do that to me."

_**" Wouldn't he? He hates you, baby bird. You know he does."** _

" He  _wouldn't_." Jason repeated, perhaps to the niggling voice of doubt in his head.

" I know it's hard-"

" You  _think_?! Hood was obviously fucking confused or - or  _something_!" Jason could feel his breath spazzing out just by the thought that Dick would... Try to kill him. Their shared hatred was nothing secret but... That kiss, hadn't that meant anything? Or was that just the intro to the knife plunge? All dramatic telenovela style?

" He's not wrong, Jason." Roy said, apologetic, regretting he had to be the one retelling this.

" He said Tim was there, and that he'd cropped his hair? Dick was... full of himself, apparently." 

_**" That's one way of looking at it, I suppose. Rather he's full of-"** _

" Y - yeah," Jason dipped his head, up, down, swallowing back the emotion he shouldn't be feeling " Yeah, s -sounds like 'em." 

 _Dammit_! Stop being fucking upset! You should have seen this coming, just be grateful it wasn't you who he skewered.  You  _don't_  regenerate. Dick knows that, he didn't know that wasn't you. If you'd gotten there an hour earlier you'd be the one under the asylum's floor.

That notion made him feel sick with dread.

Roy adopted something of a sympathetic expression, reaching out and gently, he lowered his hand onto Jason's shoulder, his touch kind to Jason's injury. What... What was this? It felt like the way Roy had consoled him when he had his last big meltdown.

Unsure, Jason shrugged his hand off. He didn't need that. Didn't need anyone's damn comfort.

_**" That's my boy! The Knight ain't no marshmallow after all!"** _

" So Dick made a pin cushion out of your bae, thinking it was me?" Jason asked, swishing his tongue around his mouth, pressing it into the velvety smooth side of his cheek while he calmed his racing thoughts. He shouldn't be shocked by this revelation. Shouldn't be upset.

He sent a lasting glance to the black rock of the cave wall. It was suddenly more interesting than Roy's line of sight.

" Fucking awesome." 

" I'm sorry." 

" Don't be." Jason said when he returned his gaze to the other, now in regained control over his emotions. He _shouldn't_ be surprised Dick would try something like this. He'd always known he was capable.

**_" But you never did think he would actually do it, did you? Haha, always needed that crumb of comfort didn't ya? Even when you knew it was fake...."_ **

" It's Hood they got, not me. Don't you think it's him you should be chatting up?" Jason asked because he didn't want Roy here anymore. Knowledge of Dick's attempt on his life made him more motivated to get free before Bruce and Hood inevitably tossed him back into his own dimension. He'd disappear somewhere, go underground, ditch the Knight title if he had to, but he was not fucking going back  _there_.

" I'll go see if he's calmed down at all in a sec." Roy said, but showed no signs of leaving. He continued sitting there, observing Jason's efforts to be inconspicuous while trying to slide his hands free from the ropes. But, this was Bruce's doing, there was almost definitely no escape that he could attain. 

" You're not going to get loose, Jason." Gingernut cut in. " And even if you do, Bruce is going to catch you. I wouldn't risk it." 

Jason stalled because... he wasn't wrong. Well, it wasn't impossible to escape the Dark Knight, but that wasn't something he had the means to right now. 

" About Dick-"

" Don't worry about him, gingersnap." Jason said. " I'll - I'll handle him when - y'know - I get thrown back into my own dimension."

" _What_?" It wasn't something he often saw in such a pure form, but Roy looked surprised when he said that, like that scenario hadn't ever occurred to him.

" No, Jason.  _No_." If he'd been standing, Jason could imagine him literally putting his foot down then. 

" You're not going back there, not until Dick's been neutralised as a threat towards you. He tried to kill you once, he ended up getting my partner, and there is absolutely no way we're -  _I_  am overlooking that." Jason hadn't even imagined the man he'd demeaningly nicknamed after a universally favourable cookie could look as serious as he did then. 

" If it comes to it, I'll go to your dimension and lodge an arrow in his skull."

At his statement, Jason was now the surprised one. He didn't think he could expect anything of sort from Roy Harper, commonly accepted as the carefree idiot. And it was very clear, unspoken but certain, that this was no idle threat. 

" I... I thought you liked Dick." Jason mumbled, unsure what else to say. 

" I do, yeah," Roy tipped his head a fraction to the side. " I like the version of him that hasn't put a knife through someone I love." 

" So you'd really kill him?"

" I have a good mind to. Even if it's a last resort."

" Bruce won't let you." 

" And I don't care." Roy confessed, putting his hands up. " Unlike you, Bruce isn't my dad, my mentor, not my commander and  _not_  my rule-maker."  

" He's none of those things to me either." Jason all but growled back, age-old self-righteousness tugged at by the notion that the Bat was any of those to him. Maybe once, but he'd become his own master since then. Or at least, as close as he could get to that.

" Then that's something you and babe have in common." Roy commented.

_**" Well, that and your dashing good looks.... what, won't deny that?"** _

Continuing to persist sliding his hands free of the knots despite Roy's words of discouragement, or perhaps wisdom,  the only thing that made Jason stop was the twinge spark through his rotator cuff, drawing a sharp wince from him.

" You alright?" Roy asked, leaning forward ever so slightly.

" Never better." Jason grunted through his teeth, turning his arm and tugging at it, trying to get his shoulder into a position of no strain, but the ropes weren't making it easy.  Every inch he moved worsened it until he felt like his limb had become the crank of a Jack-in-the-box. 

He could feel Roy's eyes on him, gaze akin to sympathy as he struggled. Never once, did he stare at the brand.... 

" You need any help?" He offered.

"  _No_." He harshly snapped back, preferring his own ways to any additional aid.

" How did you injure your shoulder?"

" Digging a grave for your  _babe_."

" Originally." Roy didn't seem phased by what he replied with first.

Jason stopped what he was doing, pausing to consider his answer. He knew he didn't have to say anything....

" Six years ago. Out with Batman, I misjudged the distance between rooftops; fell, didn't catch myself in time."

Roy studied him for validation but Jason gave him nothing to work with; no body language to reveal the lie. They weren't anywhere near the point where Roy would learn any part of the truth from him. 

" Well, then," Roy said, " sure you don't need help? I can't let you go, but I can put you in a cell. Those ropes are hurting you." 

Jason was planning on staging a protest; fuck gingersnap, he didn't need anyone's help. He didn't need sympathy or pity. Or... did he?

**_" You know how to get out those cells of Batsie's. It's a slice of Robin pie! We can't trust these people, pumpkin. They're not going to help you and  you know it...."_ **

Jason considered Joker's proposition, watching Roy as he daftly awaited a response. Good god, he was easy to take advantage of.  He was starting to see what his counterpart must in the archer. 

" I'd like that."

* * *

Leaving the other-Jason to his own devices until Bruce returned, Roy headed to check up on his Jason, lest he'd calmed down and was willing to hold a civil conversation. He moved quietly through the halls of the manor, trying to remember which room was Jason's childhood one, which he'd more likely than not, be stowed away in. He said he was going to have a shower, didn't he? Roy listened to the sounds of running water through the door, pushing open the one that elicited it and the items of Red Hood's gear laid out over an armchair in the room's furthest corner confirmed he was here.

Roy stepped in and shut the rest of the world out quiet as he could, focusing on the water spilling to the ground, coming freely from the lit-up bathroom. Wisps -  _clouds_ , of steam floated casually towards Roy, giving him an idea on just how hot the shower was that Jason was using to scrub himself clean. Not surprising, he was covered in a lot of... pretty much everything from earth to blood.

Energetic, raucous at certain points, music hummed through his ears, coming from Jason's phone, left on the bed with the screen blaring light and the volume pumped high. Roy picked it up, upon a brief glance noticing the song was repeating on autoplay from one of Jason's playlists, titled 'fucking idiot archer'. This track was a new addition to the list, the lyrics particularly interesting,

_" Say my name and his in the same breath. I dare you to say they taste the same....."_

Roy rolled his eyes. Jason's pettiness could reach astronomical levels when he was pissed enough. The music pounded loud, almost drowning out the shower and though he might be sulking, Roy began to ask why Jason had the background noise going if he probably couldn't hear it. Like, it was so loud Roy couldn't make out a thing Jason was doing -  _oh_. 

Tossing the phone back on the bed, hurrying into the bathroom, Roy found Jason sitting under the cascade of water, fully clothed, staring vacantly at the wet wall in front of him while all matter of substances drained off him, turning his surroundings opaque. His knees were drawn, arms rested on them and extended before him while his eyes were bloodshot, face blotchy, no trace of his raging anger left. The sight of him made Roy's breath stall.

" Jay..."

Noticing Roy from the corner of his peripheral vision, Jason immediately straightened, sniffing, running his sopping sleeve over his face as if that helped at all. Composing himself was, all of a sudden, all he cared about.

" Oh -  _uh_ , hi. What're you doing here?" Jason asked, hoping to distract from his state with the question. He handled his hair out his way, still hanging heavy, logged. 

" Came to check on ya." Roy replied, a bit more quietly than he'd intended. He pushed himself away from the doorframe he'd been leaning on and approached Jason, stopping a foot away.  

" 'M fine." He muttered, as if completely lacking for self-awareness. He was fully clothed in a scalding shower, fresh from what looked like crying, not even 24-hours after barely clawing out from under a damn concrete floor.   

" You're a little overdressed, aren't you?" Roy went on, gesturing to the soaking clothes clinging to Jason's skin with the added weight of lead that Jason himself, hadn't seemed to notice. 

" Uh.... I..."  

Seeing he didn't actually have a valid explanation, or how he was struggling to voice one, Roy sighed quietly when he lowered himself beside Jason under the pour of water, drenched to the bone within seconds.  Jason looked over at him, his green eye colour something the archer was slowly getting used to. The way his stare locked on him, so startlingly intense despite the way its owner currently was, it made Roy feel uncomfortable in his own skin, perhaps only because he wasn't sure how clear the airways were between them. 

" You don't gotta be here, Harper. I'm sure your new _boyfriend_ would love your extended company." Teeth somewhat grit, Jason grunted rather dismissively when he returned to resting his chin on his drawn knees, glaring profusely at the white tile work, black streaks of marble diminishing its albino counterpart's integrity. 

" It's not like that and you know it, Jason." Roy wanted to, but he knew better than to slip his arm around his partner's waist when he was getting those knife vibes from him. 'Course, he was still seething. It'd only been forty-five minutes since he snapped, it would be ridiculous to expect him to be mellowed out at all. 

" Sounds like something a liar would say."

" I'm sorry I defended him, _okay_?" He tried and became increasingly aware that they were two twenty-somethings, sitting fully clothed in a shower while he begged forgiveness from a former crime lord and currently internationally wanted outlaw. Uhm, weird? 

" 'Cept you're not sorry, _are you_ , Roy?" Jason turned around completely, leaning his back against the wall in a way that came off as a tad forceful. 

" Whaddya mean?" Roy's brow furrowed while be blinked back droplets rolling down his face, obscuring his vision. Damn, that was annoying. He reached to turn the faucet off, since neither of them was actually washing, only to have Jason's hand appear lighting-fast around his wrist, _squeezing_.

" Leave it." He hissed, as if transforming into the Wicked Witch's reverse cousin. Interlocking gazes with him, Roy nodded a bit too quick, afraid to disagree when he moved back from his intention. 

"  _Damn_ , Jay. Sure. Sorry."  Roy settled again into his previous position, not for the first time that day sitting cross-legged, opposite a Jason who he hardly made sense of. Fuck, this shower was cramped, but no way they could go hold a conversation anywhere more spacious. Not since it seemed Jason had become a plant, rooting himself to where he could get moisture. 

" So," Jason regarded him with cynically narrowed eyes, as if wholly trading places with his counterpart. One could hold a civil conversation, the other was snappy and irrational. Jesus, Roy wondered if there could have been a switch up again?

" I think I know what's going on with you and the nutcase."  He stated and Roy couldn't deny, he was somewhat intrigued to know what his reasoning was. 

" Well?" He asked as patiently as he could.

" I think," Jason leaned back more comfortably, " you feel guilty over not helping me when I really, really,  _really_  fucking needed it," Okay,  _jeez_ , they both knew how bad it was. No need to rub it in.

" An' you're tryin' to make up for it, by helping 'me'. Only, it's not me you're helping, just the me who looks vulnerable and in need of a guarding angel, instead of the one who wants to tattoo 'not Jason' onto that whackjob's face. Am I warm?" His gaze became ever narrower, and Roy wanted to argue his case, but Jason the behavioural psychologist had him in a headlock here. That was... actually part of the reason he'd done it. Another major part was that he'd seen sides of the Knight he doubted anyone had in a very long time, the fragile, breakable sides encrusted by rage and ferocity. 

He wasn't  _evil_. What he'd done was, yes, but it didn't come from his core. From what Roy could tell, it came from a desperate, scared place he'd no doubt deny existed.

But, his Jason would also shiv him with a bar of soap unless he was of a like mind.

" Yeah, you're warm." Roy agreed, ditching any other explanation Jason wouldn't want to hear.

" An' I really sorry I stopped you, Jay. I just... I don't like seeing you get hurt, even if it's your look alike."

" Well...." Jason began, paused halfway through as if debating whether or not to finish, then eventually he went on,

" I'm not gonna hurt him again."  He sounded different when he said that, the fury towards his double diminished somewhat and it may be too soon to assume, but Roy took it as a good sign. Maybe laying down his potential to argue was the olive branch Jason had been waiting for.

" I kinda get what's going through that screwed up head of his." That's not a bad thing when they were literally the same person. If anything, it showed Jason had some level of self-awareness, despite how he abandoned it when it suited him.

" I mean, he's clearly totally nuts, but... I didn't need all those punches when I got back to Gotham the first time. It didn't help, just like it doesn't help if I use him like a pinata, no matter how much I'd like to...."  

" That's good, Jason." Roy said, extending his hand, encircling Jason's. He was actually surprised over how  _rationally_  his partner was thinking this over. It wasn't really like him.

" An - and I just keep thinking," Jason continued, voice noticeably more fragile this time around. He blinked away that weakness he'd been displaying before engaging in conversation.

" That I was under that fucking floor for what - a day? Two days? And I hate going back to it in my head... But I can't stop. Being so close to the people I care about but they won't find me. They aren't even looking." He fidgeted anxiously, the recollection vivid enough to drive the stake on unforgiveness Roy had carved for himself deeper in. It was heartbreaking to see the person he loved so distraught and have so few ways to help him.

" I'm so sorry, babe." Roy said again, no matter how many times he repeated it never felt nearly enough.

But Jason went on without properly hearing it,

" And the worst part is that.... That was only  _two_  days. _Two_ , Roy. That fucking maniac, he - he was kept in the asylum for over a goddamn year. I feel so out of my head that I can't even pretend I have any kind of idea how much worse it must've been for him." With the water running down every part of him, it was difficult to tell, but Roy knew a tear rolled down Jason's face, over his lashline. With care, Roy brushed it away, joining Jason against the wall instead of opposite him, finally getting away with wrapping his arm around him and at this point, they were both soaked to the bone. Neither cared when it seemed so irrelevant.

" You're scared, aren't you, Jay?" Roy quietly said while Jason leaned on him, bent head fitting the crook of his neck perfectly.

"...  _Yes_. I keep thinking that what if Joker hadn't killed me.... Would he have kept me in Arkham? Done all kinds of shit to me? If that bomb hadn't gone off... Would I have that fucking clown's initials burned into my face?"  Like brittle wood on stone, Jason's voice broke but quickly tried to cover it up; he cleared his throat loud and Roy tightened the arm around his soggy body.

" Don't go there, Jay." Roy said, low. "Don't go there."

" I can't stop going there." Jason whined, misery finding its way back to strain his speech.

" An' every time I try to think about somethin' else, all I can see is Dick, stabbing that batarang in me again an' again an'- and-"  

" Shh," Roy dropped a kiss onto his temple. " Shh. Don't think back on that, okay, baby? Not now."

" He's still out there, Roy." Jason continued. " He still wants the Knight dead, wh - what if he mistakes us again?"

" I promise, Jay, I'm not letting him anywhere near you." And that was a blood oath. On his life, Dick wasn't getting within ten feet of his partner. And seeing how scared Jason was, practically quivering in his arms, Roy knew then and there that the last resort he'd mentioned was his first decision. With painfully sharp clarity, Roy promised someone was paying for this. And the price was high.

Then silence hailed down with the sheets of water.

" You're not gonna want him instead of me, are you?" Jason asked quietly after some time, voice barely a whisper.

" Who?" Roy straightened a bit, looking at Jason. After the second of initial confusion, it hit him.

" The  _Arkham Knight_?" He gaped, barely believing Jason just said that. Jason turned, Roy's arm falling from around him.

" Yeah. Him." Jason licked his lips quickly, gaze flickering off to the ground and then back to Roy.

" You... Spent time with him."

"  _Yes_ ," Roy's brows were high, sounding as sincere as he was startled by that thought. " Under the assumption he was  _you_."

" I know, but I - I'm no one's first choice." Jason half-heartedly shrugged. " I'm not the first Robin, not the first Hood...." He trailed off and Roy took his face between both hands.

The kiss was slow at first,

" You're the only you for me." Roy promised into his mouth, feeling the tweak of a faint, relieved smile.

But quickly, it blossomed into something quicker,  _hungrier,_ when the longing of separation reached its climax. They moved fast, before either was the wiser, heavy, waterlogged clothes were coming off.  _Splash_ , that was the sound of Roy pulling Jason's shirt off and sending it across the room into a crumbled wet mess, fingers sensually trailing over his smooth warm skin, not faltering on the new scars across his belly.

Jason's arms intertwined behind Roy's neck, allowing for himself to be guided onto the floor, his back flat on the drain blocking the flow, water quickly rising.

Roy kissed Jason deep, Jason bit into it as if starving, sucking eagerly on Roy's tongue with wet noises. Roy slid his hands back along Jason's thighs, off his hips, and around the bend of his knees. This close to one another, Roy felt Jason's heart pounding, beating rapidly inside the hollow of his chest, like thunder against him and then...

Then Leslie's instructions came back to haunt him, floating eerily through his mind like whispered words of warning from the beyond,

_"... Keep his heart rate down.."_

And just like that, the raucous buzz in the back of his head died down and reluctantly, he broke the kiss, lips still hovering just inches above Jason's, their breathing mingling. From beneath him, his partner blinked up at him in confusion. 

" Uhm, Jay," Roy mumbled, awkward. " I don't think we should. Remember what Les said?"

Taking a second to think back to it,  Jason dropped his head back against the tile floor when he did remember, giving a groan of disappointment through his teeth.

" But I still got some Pit energy left." He complained when Roy got off him, sitting back on his legs while water pooled around them.

" No, you don't. You're tired, Jason. It's obvious."

" Then what, we sleep?"

"  _You_ ," Roy stood, heavy though his clothes made him. " Should have an actual shower. You know, with no clothes to trap dirt."

A sudden mischievous gleam entered Jason's eyes, a half smirk teetering on his face to match.

" Join me?" He asked, hitting Roy the way he knew he could not refuse. And he didn't even try to hide his innuendo.

" _Fine_." Roy heaved a great sigh and started stripping near the instant he did, eager. 

" But no sex." 

* * *

 

Showered, hair redyed, one-hour powernap, Jason felt... better. Not good, never good, that state of being was a helluva journey away, but he did feel lighter. Granted, that might only be because he'd just scraped three layers of ageing dirt off himself, thus taking his weight down by what he was sure, must be several pounds. 

Bruce had come back, Bruce and... Dick. Looking at his older brother, Jason knew he shouldn't, but couldn't find it within himself to be comfortable in his presence. Every gaze cast in his direction - no matter how brief - made Jason flinch back, despite how he tried to steel himself. He could tell by the way Dick stiffened when he did that, and the way he chewed his lip to bits,  guilt was eating him from the inside out, even if he wasn't the culpable one. 

Well, not him exactly. But he did know what happened, so there was that.

The fresh scars across his middle tightened and twisted at the memory of their origin, a memory sparked by Dick's presence, and Jason leaned heavier on Roy, the pressure and weight of the archer's arm around his waist feeling distant while he tried to focus on anything but Dick. From the corner of his eye, he noticed his doppelganger, pacing back and forth behind the blast-proof glass of his prison, pausing every now and again only to say something to himself.

.... Lunatic. If Jason had ever through he was crazy before, he was now reevaluating himself.

And Bruce. He wasn't happy about the asylum thing, not at all, and going with the excuse 'the Pit made me do it' was ridiculous, but it's exactly the defence Jason raised when questioned for his actions. 

" Traces of the Lazarus Pit is still infused to your DNA," Bruce said, taking it surprisingly well. " It's the reason you recover rapidly from injuries. The stabbing would have been no exception to that, and the Pit itself is notorious for causing temporary madness after exposure."  

" Bruce," Jason started, tired, done with this shit for one day. " I didn't kill those people because I wanted to. The - the Pit...." He tried but didn't know what he was trying for. His words didn't seem good enough or vocal at all. Fuck, he didn't know what he was saying. Another breath, a sigh, passed between his lips. This wasn't going well at all.

" Dick, Roy," Bruce nodded towards the two, both almost jumping out their skin to be mentioned by name. The Bat jerked his head in the direction to the stairs leading up to the manor. Without words, the implication was clear; give us a moment. Dick went without question, never one to disobey, but Roy was hesitant, only leaving with a nod of reassurance from Jason. Jason immediately felt the loss when his partner's arm slipped free from around him, followed by the sound of his retreating footsteps and Jason was alone with the Dark Knight.

But, he did feel.... more secure, now that Dick was gone. Safer.

Cautiously, sceptically, he raised his eyes to meet Bruce's line of sight, and was surprised for the lack of hardness in them. Like he understood.

" Jason," he softly said, reaching out, laying his heavy hand on Jason's shoulder. 

" B, I-" 

" There's no need to explain, Jason. I know why you did it." He said and simply by doing so, shocked the hell out of Jason. He really accepted the Pit's murder lust as the reason? It was, of course, but he didn't expect his former mentor to see the means to the madness. Only the consequences; bodies piled high enough to touch the ceiling. 

" You're not angry?" Jason gaped, hardly aware that his jaws were parted.

" Not at you." Then with that, sooner than he'd braced himself for, Bruce pulled Jason into his arms, into a... hug? It was strong, firm, enveloping his only slightly smaller body entirely. Tense at first, breath caught in his throat, slowly, Jason's shoulders relaxed, his arms carefully curling around Bruce. He pressed his face into the other's chest, something he used to do as a child, and Bruce moved his hand to gently stroke his varicoloured hair.  

It didn't need to be said, Jason knew what Bruce was thinking; he was relieved Jason was alive, afraid he'd lost him a second time.  

From his cell, Jason could feel his double's stare on them, like an acidic burn in its intensity. Barely audible, the Knight scoffed, rolling his eyes.

" You weren't wrong, clown. They're fucking pathetic in this 'verse."

* * *

 

" Stay the hell away from him." 

Dick turned slowly on his heel, like the hands of a clock gradually working their way full circuit, and stared at Roy. Roy who was among his oldest, best friends, and now had been replaced by an angrier version of himself, brow scrunched up into a glare and upper lip drawn back just enough to flash the points of his teeth. And all that anger was directed towards  _him_.

" Excuse me?" 

" Stay away from Jason." The archer repeated, none the less hard this time around. He took a step closer to Dick, shoulders squared back, intimidating, threatening whether or not he meant to be. He was the same height as Dick, maybe an inch or two taller, and definitely stronger. After a lifetime of drawing back bowstrings, in his arms, Roy might be stronger than Jason. 

" Roy, I didn't do anything to him." Dick protested. " That was fake-Jay's version of me."

" He's not fake, Dick. Don't call him fake." Roy, the way he was speaking, it made him sound like a whole other person. Dick knew he wasn't carefree at all times, had seen plenty of occasions where he dropped the smile to reveal something darker beneath it, but never had he been the object it was centred around.

" He's still Jason. An' he's got a lot in common with my Jay, don't you think?"

" Uh, well, yeah. They are the same-"

"  _Exactly_. Just makes me wonder if you and the dead man who stabbed Jay are at all similar?"

That felt like a goddamn slap to the face. Did Roy really think he was capable of hurting his little brother? Yes, an alternate version of him had, and that alone was something that was killing him. He hated that Jason was on edge around him, even when he didn't do anything, and Roy was really saying  _this_?

" Don't be fucking stupid, Roy." Defensive, Dick bit back. " I'd  _never_. Do. Anything like that to him."  

" You'd be smart not to." Roy tilted his head, as if to eye him down for weak spots. " But I think Jason'd feel better if you went back to Bludhaven." 

" _What_? Out of the question. I'm staying here to help until the threat has been neutralised."

" Don't you get it, Dick?" Spreading his tattooed arms to the sides, Roy snapped, " To Jason, you are the threat!"

He'd known that, sort of, but hearing Roy yell it put things into devastating perspective. Jason had an underlying fear of him, despite how his mind knew he wasn't someone to be afraid of, he couldn't convince his subconscious of the same truth. He didn't want to frighten Jason, unsettle him, cause him to think back on the stabbing. He'd never want that. 

Maybe... Maybe Roy was right. He wasn't of much use while here, and even trouble arose he was only a hop, skip, and a call away. 

" Fine." He said, a minute of mulling it over later. Roy wasn't wrong.

" I'll go back to my city for now."

" Good." Roy nodded curtly, his eyes narrow like two slivers of emerald. Dick could sense it, Roy was acting out of protectiveness rather than anything else, and for that, couldn't bring himself to harbour bitterness over this show of distrust. Jason needed someone to protect him to this extent. 

" Keep him out of harm's way."

Again, the archer dipped his head yes. " Don't worry about him. He's safe with me." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Figured we could all use a breather. Breathe with me. In, out, in, out....


	14. Truth Enough

_...340.......341..... 342....343...._

" Are you hungry?"

" No."

" You haven't eaten in three days."

" Thought you were Hood's boyfriend, not his mother." Jason opened a single blue eye to regard gingersnap with from where he lay, sprawled out on the floor of his cell, arms apart and completely still up until then. The archer gazed in at him with something that could be named as concern.

" Fuck off. I'm fasting."

" You're not religious."

" _Aren't_ I?" He quirked a brow. " I happen to be a firm believer in 'leave me the hell alone-ism'. It's a new religion I founded during the time I've been locked up for. I'm quite the zealous fundamentalist."

_**" I'm a devout killjoy."** _

" _Haa-haa_." Roy sarcastically went, unconvinced. He sounded lethargic and with these past few days, that came as no surprise. Jason took small satisfaction knowing everyone was miserable.

" Shouldn't you be in bed? It's six am." Jason asked him, and he might be wrong, but he was fairly sure that Roy Harper was no early morning bird. And by his count, it was indeed, six am. Sounding a whirring mechanical noise, something only a Bat would know, Bruce's computers automatically updated themselves when the clock struck the witching hour, he'd been counting the minutes tick by ever since then.

" I can't sleep with all this shit going on." He confessed. " What about you? Security feed shows you've been awake all night."

Gazing up at the blinking red light of a wall-mounted camera recording his every movement, or lack thereof, Jason replied,

" Severe chronic insomnia. Only times I sleep is when A, I pass out from exhaustion. Or B, someone drugs me." With that last part, he sent an accusing glance toward Roy, and he repented with an apologetic look.

" Insomnia," the Knight went on, " and my goddamn schizophrenia makes sure there's never a dull moment in my skull. Fucking laughter all night long."

" You have schizophrenia?" Roy didn't seem particularly surprised when he asked that, still lingering aimlessly outside the glass as if he were a child in an aquarium, observing the rare and endangered crazy fish.

" Probably." Jason shrugged, but took care to keep the movement small, barely flexing his muscles at all. Partly through his lashes, he continued to stare at the gleaming camera lens, like a dark murky eye staring back, never blinking. It seemed the only bit of life from his body was his light breaths and the _thump-thump-thump_ of his heart. It sounded too loud and was beginning to irritate him.

" You should get that checked out, Jason." Roy advised, as if he forgot again that his name wasn't Cathy Todd.

" And you should go blow Krang."

Disappointing, Roy must really be used to derogatory comments because none of Jason's insults or jibes sank deep, bouncing off his skin like rubber balls that made Jason regret wasting them on him.

**_" You can't recycle jokes just like you can't reuse insults, sweetie, so don't even think about it."_ **

" You should at least drink something. Can I get you some water?" Roy continued fussing and it was a struggle for Jason, not the break character by getting up and convincing the 'snap that he didn't need to be babied.

" Not unless it's with a cyanide pill." Jason sighed, allowing his eyes to fall shut again in hopes that it would block out the redheaded annoyance. With some strain, he swallowed against his scratchy throat, pleading with him for moisture he wouldn't give it. Fortunately, he was used to both malnutrition and confinement. This was more of an old friend than it was anything else.

" When does Bruce get back from his business meeting?" Jason asked when Roy didn't input anything more. The old man hadn't really said all that many things to him, which he supposed he was happy for, but Jason had overheard him and Hood briefly discussing some debate or other at the Wayne Tower, that Bruce would have to be present for. He'd been gone for an hour. Jason had counted that too.

" Alfred said they'd be back late. Bruce's got a lot of stuff going on today."

Absently Jason hummed in acknowledgement and Roy got the hint _finally_.

" I'll leave you alone then."

_**" At last! Three's a crowd, eh, pumpkin?"** _

Jason parted his eyes a crack to watch the archer through narrowed vision, his retreating steps quiet on the grated floor. When he was out of sight, Jason continued counting, one minute at a time then keeping track of the minutes, 360 of them since midnight. 21600 seconds. 21600000 milliseconds, etc.

_**" You ain't right in the head, boyo...."** _

* * *

 

From the moment Tim stepped into the Cave, to when his eyes landed with a jolt onto the two imposing figures, the last people you'd wanna meet in a dark alleyway, Wonder Woman and Superman, he knew Dick had done something.

" C - Clark, Diana, what're you guys doing here?" Tim's gaze darted quickly from them, to Dick, standing by the monitors with a fresh patch of blotchy blue spreading over the side of his face. It looked like he'd been clopped around the head.

" Sorry, Tim." Dick said past his broken lip and the convincing amount of displeasure he was displaying. What had he done? Tim felt his heart sink deeper into dread when Dick said those same words he had to Jason,

" It didn't have to go like this."

" Tim, you need to come with us." Diana said when she stepped forth, her normally kind voice grim and unwavering. Tim jumped back a stride, out of her reach on instinct he didn't doubt was correct. Hand shooting behind his back, he snatched his staff off his utility belt, extended it lightning-fast and kept it defensively between himself and the Amazon. Shit lotta good that would do him in an actual face-off with her.

" What's going on? What are you doing?" He demanded, pointing his weapon from Diana to Clark in turn, all the while Dick stood back. He wasn't smirking, but Tim could be he wanted to, knowing he claimed the victory of being the faster one to jump to action.

" Son," Clark joined in, none the less anxiety-inducing than Diana was. " We've come to detain you."

" _What_? On what grounds?"

" Don't play innocent, Tim. You're not helping yourself."

Diana agreed with a nod. " Come quietly and you won't be hurt."

" Fuck that." Tim backed up more, cornered no matter where he stood. " I haven't done anything."

" Tim, you killed Jason. You attacked me when I confronted you about it." Dick said, revealing the treacherous shit he'd pulled. He must've known Tim and Barbara were going to yank the chair out from under his feet and leave him at the bottom of a six foot rope, or he never would have jumped to these extremes. Had he rigged their apartment with bugs? Or just picked up on suspicious behaviour?

" Don't you remember?" He asked, gentle and pretending he was concerned. Fuck it, he even looked the part enough to near convince Tim,  while he himself tried to convince the founding members of the JLA that Dick was mentally insane one here.

" You did that, Dick!" Tim snapped and to Diana and Clark, frantically said, " Dick killed Jason. He - he attacked _me_. He's lying to you to cover his own back."

" Tim, we saw the footage." Diana gravely informed, and although she hadn't reacted to his pose, ready for combat, he knew half a second was more time than she needed to do it. He was outnumbered and outgunned one to one million. When he called in the League's heaviest hitters, Dick might be overestimating Tim's physical capabilities by a thousand miles, but he sure as hell wasn't leaving any room for error.

" Dick must've cropped it, Diana." Tim half pleaded with her but could see none of it was getting through. Dick, the man they'd known for almost twenty years now, would never in their eyes be perceived as a liar or murderer or any of the things he was. He was the angel and if he said a damming word about anyone, then by god, it was true.

" If he hadn't, then you would've seen _him_ stab Jay." Tim continued to uselessly argue his case.

" Son, the trauma of Bruce dying clearly had a strong effect on you; you need help." Clark, always the big blue boy scout, proclaimed that like Tim was the one on the brink of total psychopathy, assuming Dick wasn't already there.

" I'm not fucking crazy, Clark! I didn't hurt Jason, I didn't hurt anyone - Dick is _lying_ to you. _Diana_ ," Tim's gaze locked heavily, desperately onto her. " Use your lasso on me, you'll see I'm telling the truth."

" Dick's word is truth enough." Diana said and then she did what Tim was tense for; she lunged for him. Timothy Drake was fast, yes, second quickest member of the Bat Clan to date, but Diana Prince had flight and super strength on him, factors that when combined, made for a quick apprehension. Diana's steely grip locked around him before Tim could even try out meneuvering her, twisting both his arms behind his back and really putting into perspective how powerless he was then and there.

Nevertheless, Tim bucked up against her body, which was the equivalent of stone, and gained himself nothing when he furiously struggled. His staff, it fell, loudly to the floor it rolled across.

" Settle down, Tim!" Diana ordered, jerking her arms tighter around him, hugging his far weaker form to herself while one hand snaked free and latched onto his neck, keeping him as still as possible.

" Get off me!" Tim squirmed vigorously, fighting every bit he could. " Dick is the crazy one! He's the one who's lying and killing - he killed the wrong Jason-"

Raising his brows, Dick gave Diana and Clark that 'see what I mean' look, to which they nodded to in concerned, troubled agreement. Carrying Tim like a ragdoll, Diana made to leave and Clark followed with a few words to the Bat. Something like,

" We'll make sure he's cared for."

And,

" Oracle will be joining him for her involvement."

That didn't ease their efforts with Tim. If anything, the knowledge that Dick had trapped his girlfriend in this web of deception made him all the more intent on escaping. Fuck that fucking Batman wannabe and his damn tongue of silver; even when he lied it was silver, manipulating everyone who didn't know better.

" You punch yourself in the fucking face!?" Tim demanded of Dick when effortlessly, Diana dragged him past, and Dick didn't dignify him with a response to explain the bruising that magically appeared on his face. Tim yanked hard on his restrained limbs, yearning to get his hands around Dick's throat.

" Don't make this harder than it needs to be, Tim." Dick advised him, solemn as he leaned lightly on the computer table, the small of his back rubbing on it, arms folded across the symbol he didn't deserve to wear.

" You fucking liar, _Dick_!"

Unphased by the exclamations, Dick watched Clark and Diana haul the screaming Robin away, twisting and writhing like the mentally unstable person he'd proven himself to be. He did hope Tim actually got some help for his litany of problems, he really did. True, Dick had had to exaggerate to the League a bit, concerning Jason, but it was for Tim's own good, given how he seemed delusional over the true importance of slaughtering Jason. The poor boy honestly didn't seem to think it was a necessity, and that was a clear sign of how he truly needed some aid. Hopefully, they could get him some medication to ease the delusions and reattach him to reality. 

Watching them go, Dick raised his hand to click the comm wiggled into his ear on, waiting with the static for a couple of seconds as the device sparked to life and the call connected; he was greeted by a voice he'd recently made himself familiar with. Adam Strange, zeta tube technology specialist. Upon Dick's request, he'd began working to advanced his teleportation machinery to be able to reach as far as neighbouring dimensions. And, y'know, waving a thick roll of good ole Benjamins in front of him had been fairly motivational.

" Strange. How's  progress?" Dick asked, getting straight to the point. 

_" Almost there, boss. You'll be able to skip dimensions in no time."_

" _How_ long?"

He heard Adam draw a whistling breath through his teeth as he considered what his reply would be.

_" A week?"_

Dick shook his head, messing up his hair. " No. You have until tomorrow." 

_" There's no way-"_

" Do it, and Wayne Tech will be funding all your projects for the next year."

The interlude of silence that followed, it told Dick that, though the man was pondering this still, he'd already made his decision. The _right_ decision.

_" I'll have it done in for tomorrow."_

" Excellent. I knew you'd find it within yourself to only take the necessary time." Dick wasn't about to give him a moment to reconsider, and he didn't; he hung up when he got what he wanted and let his raised arm fall to his side. That was done now. He was so close to having all the pieces be needed to complete this masterpiece of an ending story for himself and Jason. It was going to be _perfect_ , beautiful....

" One more day, Jason....." He murmured to himself while his gaze drifted across the cave to the glass case that held the 'dead' Robin's suit, so tiny in comparison to its owner today. He narrowed his eyes to it, entertaining a thousand thoughts at once, most of which consistent of morbid anticipation that made his guts squirm. 24-hours was almost too much to wait.

Something must've happened next, because he quickly realised he'd opened the glass case and was now holding its contents to himself, the rough kevlar and armour plates on fireproof fabric somehow the softest, most pleasant thing in the world when against his skin. He raised it to his face and buried it in it, taking a deep inhale of its fading scent. When he withdrew, he gazed at the suit, the scuffed red and yellow R, easy to forget the hell that had been rained in this particular uniform. Hell he would soon bring to its final act.

At first holding it as gently as he would a newborn, Dick's fists clenched tightly around it, wanting to rip the damn thing in two along with its owner. 

* * *

 

Staring at his phone with a mug of coffee in hand - black like his soul, Jason frowned intensely at the security footage displayed. It had been like this, unchanging, for far too long, and the longer he wasn't blinking to watch, he was beginning to suspect more and more that,

" He's up to something, Roy." Jason stated when his double hadn't moved for literal hours, just laid on the floor as if crucified to it.

Looking up from sprinkling cinnamon over his hot chocolate, Roy replied with,

" I checked on him a couple hours ago. He's literally not doing anything."

" That's just what he'd like us to think." Jason narrowed his watering eyes to the still form on the screen, raising his cup to take a sip then setting it back on the kitchen table with a soft clink, never once averting his attention. That's not to say, he didn't feel Roy watching him as he put down the cinnamon.

" Aren't you being a bit paranoid?"

" Maybe, but I also know when the shit I do is suspicious. And this...." He gave a breathy pleased laugh. He was _onto_ the Knight.

"... This takes the cake."

" I think you're hyper-analysing this, Jason. He might just be tired."

As if not hearing his partner at all, Jason continued voicing the firestorm in his head, " He hasn't even tried to get out of that cell...."

Not nearly as invested as Jason was, Roy shrugged his shoulders, taking a sip of his brew. " Maybe he knows he's much safer with us."

" You and I both know that's not how I think."

" _Jason_ ," Roy said, practically sighing out his name. " He's you, yes. But he's not exactly you. For the most part, it's just the name you two share. There is a chance the two of you have a different thought process, y'know. For an immediate example, he almost definitely has some form of delusional disorder, while you don't. Although," he gestured to the phone Jason was fixated on. " I won't say you aren't showing any.... um, let's say; fragmented sanity."

" What the hell are you-"

" Obsession is the first sign of insanity, babe."

" I'm not obsessed." To prove it, Jason put the phone rather loudly beside his half-empty cup, screen facing down, and the second he looked away, his nerves were dragged taut and his self-control tested to the bone. Every second he didn't know what his doppelganger was doing was a second of extreme unease and _somehow_ , Roy couldn't see the necessity behind the constant surveillance.

Roy raised an amused brow when Jason couldn't keep his eyes from sidling to the phone, an annoying all too knowing expression worn on his face. The struggle not to flip the device over continued on in the silence of the kitchen, deserted say for the two of them, sitting at polar sides of the table. With Alfred driving Bruce to his meeting and Dick having dispatched himself to Bludhaven, they had the mansion to themselves, even if that meant they had to put up with,

" There you lesbians are." Damian said in greeting when came in through the back door, looking like the ever precious dumpling he was. His book bag was slung over one shoulder and under his spare arm, he was carrying a large bright orange roll of construction paper, the kind that your teachers would make you use for class projects.

" Hola, Luci." Jason waved and the dark warning scowl he got from the boy wasn't deterrent enough, nor was the swat on the hand that Roy gave him.

" Hey, Dami." Roy said, coming off a tad more agreeable than Jason. " How was school?"

Setting his bag on the ground and letting his construction paper fall, Damian began working the zipper down, gritting his teeth and tugging when it got caught.

" It was impossible, Harper." He said while he struggled to get his stubborn bag to open and yield the books it held captive.

" How so?"

" The religion teacher is a tunnel-visioned wench, attempting to force me to conform to her simple-minded beliefs. She was hired to teach, expand the necessary knowledge of neighbouring cultures, not convert the entire student body in her own spiritual image." Damian finished that opinionated mini-rant with a great frustrated sigh when his bag wouldn't give in to his efforts, remaining as shut in as any member of the Bat Clan. He gave the zip a few more tugs before Jason extended his hand, motioning with his fingers for Damian to give him the backpack.

" Be careful with it, Todd," Damian said upon placing the strap into his brother's hand. " The contents far exceed the value of your life."

" God forbid that home economics book gets a bent cover." Jason rolled his eyes, in one sharp yank achieving what Damian hadn't been able to; which was when the black and white head of a feline popped from the depths of the bag, squeezing between the partings.

" Jesus _Christ-_!" Jason jumped back against his chair, startled by the sudden appearance of Alfred the Cat, while the animal seemed to smile an innocent ray of sunshine at him.

" Bruce said no pets in school!"

Damian wrapped his small hands around the cat's warm furry ribcage - rumbling with purrs, lifting it out of Jason's lap without a care concerning the scene it had caused.

" Father also said no dying on the job." The boy responded with a smug smirk and a wicked gleam in his eye, setting AtC on his paws and he padded off, tail curled high above his head, eliciting a soft meow as he went.

" You're one to talk, Damian. How's that stab-happy clone of yours doing?"

" How's yours?" Damian tipped his nose up, trying to look down on his brother, who stood a good two and a half feet taller than him, taller even when not standing.

" He's not my damn clone, vermin. He's an alternate version from a sister dimension. Is that so hard to remember?"

" It wouldn't be, if the memory of multiple yous didn't depress me so."

" That's enough, Damian." Roy snapped his fingers to break them out of it, the sudden bursts of sound attracting both their collective attention span.

" Jason, stop arguing with a ten-year-old. It doesn't make you look good."

" Your woman is correct, Todd."

Jason took more glee than he should have at seeing Roy gape the way he did, jaws parted at that comment from Damian. A good partner would probably have done something to side with their significant other..... Jason, instead, gave Damian his grin of approval, going unregarded while the boy retrieved his construction paper, unravelled across the floor enough to reveal the title, written with a sharpie in disinterested block letters. It read **Batman** **: Gotham's Thankless Hero**.

" You wrote an essay on _Bruce_?" Jason raised an eyebrow, surprised despite his persisting amused expression. Noticing that Jason had peeked at his project, Damian hastily snatched it up and shoved it into his backpack, scrunching the paper up carelessly in his hurry to hide it. It was pretty cute, Damian was blushing but tried to prevent anyone noticing.

" Mr Rainier wanted the class to do a project on an American idol." Damian muttered through his set teeth, embarrassed as hell. " Father falls into the category and I know a sufficient amount about him, enough to cast a shadow over the works of my peers." 

Jason opened his mouth to respond, he hadn't thought of with what yet, but Roy beat him to the punch.

" That's great, Damian. I'm sure Bruce would be flattered."

" You will _not_ tell him, Harper." Damian warned and it went without saying, but this was a very real threat.  " Lest you wish for me to string up a banjo with your optic nerves."  

" Um, okay..." Roy looked away and under his breath, he mumbled _brat_. His patience concerning children wasn't anywhere near nil, but Damian had a knack for getting underneath anything remotely close to a skin.

Jason turned his phone and scanned over the screen again, feeling a bit disappointed when his double still hadn't moved so much as a stray inch, laying motionless where he'd been for a suspicious number of hours already. He watched, willing for anything to change while he barely registered what Damian said when he passed by.

" Todd, should Father forget, would you remind him I am to visit Grayson in Bludhaven later this evening? I fear I shall not cross paths with him again today."

" Mmh." Jason nodded absently, transfixed. Damian - backpack and essay in hand - headed off to change out his school uniform and dump his books somewhere. He wouldn't be needing them over the weekend.

As he made his way to the staircase, he gripped the handrail and ran his fingers over it as he went, taking the steps slowly and carefully. When there was no rush, why put himself at risk of breaking his neck? That was a behavioural aspect to typically be expected of Todd and Damian preferred to have as little in common with him as possible.

 By the quiet padding of paws behind him, he became aware that Alfred the Cat was following suit as the ever loyal pet that he was. 

Reaching the end of the stairs and with it, the handrail, Damian raised his hand long enough to land it on the wall and trace it as he went, idly nipping at his lower lip. He wondered why Grayson had so abruptly gone, when they were meant to spend the weekend together. It had been a promise made by _him_ , and he hadn't even said goodbye..... Damian had been looking forward to their time in each other's company, despite how he wouldn't dignify Grayson with that knowledge. Paying his oldest brother a house call would be the next best thing, surely. Grayson didn't know he was coming, and wouldn't, not until Damian arrived at his very doorstep; this way, he wouldn't have a chance to say no.

Feeling a small tug of anticipation, Damian smiled to himself when he rounded the corner and came within sight of his bedroom door. This weekend with Grayson would be a memorable one, he already could be sure.

With that notion to look forward to, Damian abandoned his backpack and construction paper on his pristinely made bed and went to toss the few things he'd need with him into his travel bag. While he did that, throwing in his favourite green hoodie, he gave Alfred the Cat a look of elongated consideration. The animal sat elegantly on the floor, a few feet away, practically smiling up at him with big amber eyes of adoration for its owner.

" Alfred, would you bestow upon me the honour of your company?"

"Meow."

* * *

 

Still on the floor, on his back like a cheap call girl, Jason had been thinking it must be somewhere near midnight by now when a bleep from Bruce's computers - updating themselves - told him he was correct. That was the liberating sound he'd been waiting for, for almost 24-hours. Counting the seconds go by hadn't been bootless like Joker insisted, it told him the very moment where all the Bat systems overhauled themselves, an occurrence that briefly cut power from the security cameras and rerouted it to make the update fast. He knew this all, of course, since as Robin, he could recall Bruce mentioning the problem that caused for security. Plus, he'd been making sure the problem was consistent here too, for a few nights now.

The instant he heard the sound, Jason sat bolt upright in the same movement, shot to his feet at a speed that defied a man who'd been neglecting usage his muscles for days. He had a minute, at best, to get this done.  

The lock on the sliding glass door was hydraulic, but along with the cameras, the power was momentarily directed elsewhere, so it was a matter of getting his fingers in the space between it and the frame, and a helluva lotta strength to pry it apart. He had one of those down, struggling for seconds he didn't have the luxury to spare, to get a grip on the door, but when he did achieve it, he grit his teeth against the grunt of effort it took. The muscles in his arms all flexed and tensed solid, straining underneath his skin, joining in unity to help him get the damn thing open.

**_" Open it! Open it! Let's blow this joint!"_ **

Inch by arduous inch, the door was beginning to slide back on its track, the sheer amount of power it took to move causing massive tremble throughout his body; he shut his eyes to keep from giving into his core demanding he stop before something tore or popped out its God-intended place. 

 _**" That tiny voice of reason has a good head, y'know, baby birdie. Remember your shoulder ain't all it** _ _** cracked ** _ **_out to be. Ha! HAHAHHAHA! CRACKED!"_ **

At the clown's needless reminder, Jason shoved his good shoulder into the space he'd created and forced it to part just enough, to the bare minimum he could squeeze through. Fuck all those people who'd commented that he was getting too thin, in this situation, he'd argue he wasn't quite thin enough. Nevertheless, he managed to get through just barely and by then, he'd spent twenty-five seconds to his count. With Bruce out on patrol, presumably with Hood in his company, no one was here to stop him. 

The cells were on the second floor, by Bruce's rows of suits that complimented the hoarding problem Jason was sure he had. He didn't have time to go down the catwalk's industrial staircase; he jumped the rail, nearly busting his ankle when he landed with such a jolt, but still possessed the ability to sprint to the computers, which were buffering, nearly done with their updates. 

His fingers darted over the keys to type in the 23-digit password he'd secretly observed Bruce using and apparently, Lady Luck finally remembered Jason Todd existed, because access was immediately granted to him, and dammit, if he didn't find a record speed to tap into the cameras with.

_**" Tick, tock, Jasey. TICK. TOCK. Twenty seconds before daddy's systems are back..."** _

He couldn't keep the sigh of relief silent when he sufficiently messed up the security feed to his former prison, and just in the nick of time, too, getting it to play already recorded footage back on a loop. Footage where he was doing the thing he'd gotten everyone used to; nothing. If he'd been moving around these past few days, Hood, Bruce, they'd be able to tell instantly it was a pre-recorded tape playing backwards.

What was that thing people said about madmen being unable to premeditate? 

Fuck those people and their spastic intelligence.

At this point, Hood and Bruce alike would think nothing of him laying on the ground, as shown on the screens of the devices they were using to watch him with. But, none of that meant he had a lot of time to get out of this damn cave.  He could steal one of their rides, yes, but those had a gazillion hidden trackers on, that he didn't have the hours or patience to find.

And that gave him an idea.

* * *

 

Ask anyone, and they would say Jason was the dumbest Robin by a long shot, no match for Dick's cunning or Tim's Einstein-level IQ. But Jason, himself, he would argue on that fact as he abandoned Hood's stolen bike in an alley near the manor, hiding it what little he needed, and leaving it there completely intact, minus the one tracker he'd bothered to locate. 

He rolled the small device around in his palm, wondering how long until Bruce realised he was gone while he stepped out of the alleyway and onto the deserted sidewalk. The night was dark, darker than the fabric of Batman's cowl. It was late autumn, but to that small dead part of him that used to feel delighted, delicate flakes of snow were descending from the inky mantles. 

Snow.... it was _snowing_. 

Watching a flake slowly fall into his upturned palm, Jason took longer than he should have to process it. He stared down at the effortlessly beautiful work of nature, lasting for a breath before it was melting into his skin. As a kid, he loved snow, to hell with the fact that the cold, for a street urchin, often meant barely dragging himself alive to the next dawn. He'd liked the white wintry wafers because they were pure and perfect, untainted till they landed in Gotham. He was fairly certain there was a metaphor in that, but,

_**" JASON!"** _

Joker snapped him out of his thoughts, and thankfully so, where he was standing, he was out in the open. Here, Bruce could spot him without any hardships and put a serious dent in his plan to put plenty of distance between himself and Gotham. With that in mind, he yanked the hood of his sweater roughly over his head, dishevelling his hair, frazzled strands swinging low, near blanketing his eyes. Good god, he needed a haircut to sort his bangs out. 

He walked with the tracker in hand, until a suitable lorry passed by and he tossed the device into the back. From what he could tell, judging by the road it was on, the truck was travelling out of the city. All the better to lead Bruce on a wild goose chase with. 

 _Don't be suspicious_ , the memo, the intent, it was there, and all he could do to keep from breaking into a run so as to get further from the mansion, _faster_. Then again, running in this hell city wasn't out of place in the least.

It wasn't long before he was taking quick jolting steps and the wind was whipping through his hair, threatening to blow his hood off, but the few late-night passerbys didn't give him a second glance. Everyone in the Bat's stomping grounds lived under the mantra: keep your head down or you'll lose it. It wasn't a bad philosophy. It kept people in the books of the living, and that goes for masks the same it goes for your average Joe. 

Jason took specific care to avoid all of Batman's patrol routes, even if that detoured him cripplingly. Better safe than caught red hooded. Literally, crimson was the unfortunate shade of his hoodie, that precious garment barely battling back the cold that whistled through the fabric and made the fine hair on his arms stand on end. 

 _ **" Now where, baby bird?"**_ The insufferable clown inquired in his sugary-sour voice, once Jason was at a crossroads. Again, that was to the letter, he was at the spot where the sidewalk split into two, on the street opposite Miller's bank. 

" Anywhere but Gotham." Jason told him, for no reason other than to let himself know for certain. His destination was, however, something shrouded in plenty of uncertainty. Maybe go back to Venezuela? It was plenty far from here, but there was also the _small_ issue that he had no money on him. He could steal what he needed - eyes flitting to the bank - but he was also lacking for any necessary equipment. Seriously, he didn't even grab the basics in weaponry during his hastiness to escape the cave.

" AAAHAHAHAHHHAHAHA!!!" 

For a split second there, Jason had mistaken that laughter to be curbed by the bone of his skull. And then realised with a start, that it was in the _real_ world. The mad cackle was overlapped by the monstrous roar of a vehicle that quickly sped into view, taking a sharp corner and cannonballing past Jason, the rush of wind and the shock alone near enough to knock him back. _Shock_ when he caught enough of a glimpse to immediately recognise the driver of that dangerously speeding getaway car; white makeup and a big red smile stretching to unnatural proportions, far past what his face could contain.

When it registered exactly _who_ that was, Jason could do nothing to keep from stumbling back into the brick wall of the building behind him, like he'd been hit, his heart beating dangerously hard. _No_. **_Nononono_**. 

**_".... I'm alive in this 'verse? Hell YES! This is just Jim crackin' dandy! YAASSS - this thickens the plot!"_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this makes no sense, it's 2 am where I am right now... Yawn.


	15. We Can Fix This

Picture a lake on a hot summer's noon. It's still, no waves, no ripples, not even a lazy gull crossing its silken smooth surface. There was, in a word; nothing. No movement and no life. That was about the nearest comparison to Jason's mindstate after seeing the man who tortured him, day and night, for over a year. Jason stood there, in the street as if his soul had vacated his body and left him staring in the direction the clown had sped. Had he really just seen a dead man?

_**" You saw Hood after death, didn't ya, lamb chop? Gotta face it, kiddo, no one stays dead. It's a commonly accepted trope in the world we live in."** _

"  _You're_... not living." Like a deer in the headlights, Jason insensibly mumbled, wide eyes yet fixed after the real Joker. The Joker who  _wasn't_  dead. This... couldn't be.

_**" Am in this 'verse, baby bird, am in this 'verse."** _

Jason's brain was beginning to thaw from the shock, and then it revealed the opaque mixture of panic beneath the surface. Opaque because there was something else there too;  it's confusion, he thinks. Confusion because he doesn't know what to do.  A far wiser person would continue on with his original plan, unphased by seeing the good ole Jester of Genocide, but... 

**_" You gotta see what I'm up to, baby bird!"_ **

" N - no.." Jason mumbled. He  _shouldn't_ , he knew that. He didn't want to. Last time he went running after the Joker, well... that didn't end so great for him. To recap, he was a very different person in the aftershock.

" I gotta get outta this city, not run after you." Jason tried putting his foot down with the Joker, but he wasn't having it.

_**" Go, boy! Don't you think you need to do something about lil' ole me being right as rain here? Hoodsie won't, neither will our ginger-bae or Brucie."** _

Now that he put it  _that_  way. Jason did hate Joker being alive and dementedly jubilant, no matter this world wasn't his. It made his damn skin crawl and push up every fine strand of hair on his body. But then again.... Maybe as a warning, his mind kept replaying that night outside the burned down orphanage, when he'd first decided the clown needed to die. Joker couldn't get the upper hand on him like that again, he wouldn't let him, but the underlying fear of repetition persisted.

 **_" Think about it, kiddo... You don't wanna go back to our Gotham, or universe for that matter... Could you live with yourself knowing you let_ ** _**me** _ **_go free?"_ **

" No... I couldn't." Jason admitted with a slow realisation.

_**" Spot on, pumpkin! Spot. On! Let's go get me!"** _

* * *

 

Of all the nights Joker could have chosen to run amuck through the city with a grenade launcher, he chose the one where Bruce had two alternate sons to deal with, one was a murder-happy schizophrenic and the other a ruthless psychopath. On top of that, he needed to worry over his Jason, and whether or not there were any side effects other than the psychological, concerning what happened. He didn't die, Bruce doesn't think, but more fell into a deathly coma-like state induced by the Pit, akin to the way an animal hibernates, breaths and heartbeat slowing drastically to keep its systems running while it slept through the winter.  Only, in this case, to repair Jason.

Bruce was certain that's what had happened. He'd seen it before with Ra's when he was once badly enough injured, every part of his body shutting down to assure the vital organs didn't flat line.

And with all this hell going down, Joker picked tonight to put his god all into making Bruce miserable. The man was a natural for picking the worst times imaginable.

In the batmobile, he was in delayed pursuit of the getaway car Joker escaped laughing in, delayed when he needed to first rescue civilians from the apartment block the damned clown launched an explosive into. No casualties, thank god, but it was a closer call than he liked.

 _" Yo, B."_  Jason's voice crackled through Bruce's comm as he ripped through the deserted streets of Gotham.

" What is it, Jason?" Taking a sharp left turn, Bruce asked, although he knew this was about the frequent check-ins regarding the Knight. Even while he wasn't at the cave, he wanted to be informed if Jason's doppelganger did anything. Anything at all. So far, he'd been suspiciously inactive, and Bruce knew he was going to try something soon.

_" Just callin' to let ya know my less handsome look-alike ain't done anything."_

" Are you looking at him?" Bruce inquired through his teeth, set in concentration.

_" Yeah."_

" In person?"

_" Through security feed."_

Bruce wanted to roll his eyes when he'd specifically told Jason to go down to the cell block every hour. It was anyone's guess why he hadn't.

" Go check on him  _now_ , Jay. And not on your phone."

He heard a huffy sigh and a chair scrape back against what sounded like the kitchen floor. Jason said something small to presumably Roy and his footsteps were the next thing going through Bruce's ear. They were much slower than need be and Bruce resisted telling Jason to hurry himself along.

While Jason got himself to the cave, he mentioned,

_" Oh, by the way, Dami wanted me to tell you he's going to stay the weekend with the Titans or something."_

" Okay, that's fine." He grunted, trying to both focus on the road and what Jason was saying to deliberately waste his time. He wondered sometimes if Jason was twenty or two. "Now would you hurry up?" 

For that, Jason didn't say anything and when at first Bruce accepted that was because of his tendency to procrastinate to get under his skin, but then he realised quick Jason had been stunned into silence. He should be at the cave by now.

_" Uhm, B.... we have a problem."_

" He's gone, isn't he?" Dammit, he'd known the Knight's next trick couldn't be far away, but how had he gotten out the cell without tripping an alarm? Better yet, how'd he even the damn door open? But, of course, he was  _Jason_ , accomplisher of the impossible extraordinaire. If there was no way he'd still find it.

 _"... Uh, yeah. Yeah, he is."_  Bruce heard the wind go through Jason's hair when he was now jogging to gear up. The tone of his voice, he was kicking himself for slacking off on guard duty. No part of that was Jason's usual self. He may joke around and be annoying, but he was to the letter when it came to something as important as keeping watch over his double. He'd probably taken his halfwit partner's advice again. In a lot of aspects, Roy was good for Jason, Bruce had nothing against him, except his absolute utter lack of common sense. 

_" Don't worry, I'll go get him-"_

" Search the cave and the mansion." Bruce instructed, ready with a plan not only because he always had one, but he'd frankly been expecting a move like this. " He can't have gotten far.  I'll search the city."

_" Copy that-"_

" And Jason,"

_" What?"_

" Take Roy with you to look but don't leave the manor. Got it?"

For about three seconds, Jason paused to try to figure out why those were his instructions, never one to be ordered to stay out of the field when he could own it so easily.

 _" Got it, Bruce."_   The line did what Bruce's tolerance for shit had a long time ago, and died, leaving him with an earful of static and the release of some of his mental strain when Jason didn't pull the stubborn card and argue. Although Bruce had said why Jason wasn't leaving the house, the main reason lay in his absolute refusal to allow an opportunity for either Jason to harm the other. Taking to count the Knight's mental unwellness combined with his remarkable skills in combat, no chances were to be taken.

The last thing Bruce needed to top the evening off with was two hot-headed Jasons at each other's throats. If he could see into the future then that would be the first sign of the apocalypse. No. No, he needed to defuse this one-on-one.

Searching the city for Jason's double and catching Joker became the same task in Bruce's focus, when he could bet Jason had gone after the clown. Several networks were broadcasting his latest episode of blood and destruction, chances were low Jason wasn't aware he was loose. 

If he'd followed suit, tried to find Joker, chances were lower he wouldn't be hurt. Protecting the population from his nemesis was day one routine. And maybe his hurry to find them also had something to do with who the Knight was. 

Before the Joker sped off in all of his deranged glory, Bruce had planted a tracker on him,  one that's beacon shone strong and true through the screen of his vehicle's built-in computer system, guiding him through the city like the star of Nazareth did the wise men. Or in a less dramatic sentence, he broke every traffic law in existence, hitting metal the whole way and possibly breaking his record speed while he closed the distance between him and Jason and  _Joker_. 

This situation felt too familiar to sit well.

* * *

 

It didn't take a lot, did it? That the moment Jason tracked the clown-face to his newest hidey-hole, a teeming nightclub called the Loviisa,  a spark of bloodlust ignited within him. Joker thought he was so far into the clear that he would be fine hiding out somewhere as obvious as this dump. That was a choice he'd come to regret fast.

_**" Confident - I like it! Didn't think you had chutzpah left, baby birdie. Colour me surprised."** _

Blinding blue light shone in the shape of letters above the... establishment, showing its name only in part when the O and S had long since stopped working. No one had bothered to repair it. Crappy techno music sounded somehow better when muffled by the door, blaring deafeningly when Jason let himself in, after stashing the body of the scummy guy whose neck he broke when he tried to card him (he'd had a gun on him, one Jason gladly adopted). They let a mass murdering clown into this place, easy, thank you, sir, have a good night. But underage drinking? Not on their watch. Not a  _goddamn_  chance.

Jason rolled his eyes at their idiocy and tried not to go blind with the flashing lights cutting through the dark interior blaringly. The place was jam-packed, a crush of people, dancing bodies bouncing and bumping into themselves. Young women in skimpy clothes and platform heels swung up and down  poles mounted on elevated platforms, getting sweaty crumpled up dollars thrown at them.

**_" Dun-dun-dun - this song is my beat!"_ **

Why would Joker come here? Jason didn't understand. This was less the Joker's scene than it was his. The whole place, being here, it made Jason squirm with all things from anxiety to flat out paranoia. He didn't like the music, too loud, making his brain rattle around in his skull and confusing all his senses. He didn't like the number of people, he felt like everyone was staring at him, his scar, the way he was hunched over when he walked. Logically, he knew no one cared about him or even noticed he was here, but...

He had his anxieties, okay? Sue him. 

Jason shouldered his way through the sea of drunkards, looking for any sign of green hair or a flash of eggplant purple coat. Maybe it was the raucous million things unfolding around him at once that caused a sensory overload, but he didn't see a sign of Joker. He kept looking. That fucking pasty-faced freakshow wasn't slipping through his fingers.

_**" Aww, sweetheart, you think I'm a freak? I think there's a song about that, but you may be too young to know it."** _

A busty blond gal in a shiny skintight pink dress and impossibly painful to wear heels, she was in his path. He was a mass murderer but he wasn't raised in a barn (thank you very much, it was a crack house), Jason tried to weave around her with a  _'scuse me_ , doing his god-all not to bump into her, but she was drunk out of her head. Catching sight of him from the corner of her eye, she turned around, drink in hand, and when they were face-to-face, Jason couldn't help but be taken aback by all her makeup, too much to be attractive. Layered thick like mud, sitting on her face like a second skin, her foundation didn't match her tone and that probably shouldn't have bothered the  _Arkham Knight_ as much as it did. She didn't blend it correctly and her fake lashes looked like the wings of a black butterfly.

" Well, hello there, cutie," she slurred, dilated eyes blinking at odd times while she ran them over him lazily, the corners of her mouth tugging to her approval of how he looked. Her expression was  _sin_. Then some cold hard clarity entered her wasted self when she saw his brand and focused on it, so obviously keen to know.

" Say, what happened to your face? Where'd.... Where'd you get  _that_  ugly thing?" 

" None of your fucking business,  _bitch_." Jason said to her in instinctive defensiveness of himself.

She wasn't deterred. " Got quite the mouth on you, don't you, doll? It do... anything  _other_  than talk?" She winked suggestively, biting on her plush bottom lip. She was disgusting, sex the only thing on her mind. Who said guys don't get objectified? 

" Go fuck a tictac." He said when he shouldered past her and wisely, she let him go. Jason pulled his hood further over his head but he couldn't hide the J-scar with that. He resorted to cupping his hand over his cheek, not the best way to avoid stares but they'd just pass him off as a weirdo high on drugs and leave it at that. He didn't want anyone to take an interest in him or what he was doing.

_**" Munchkin, since I'm such a good sport, I'll tell you what I usually get up to when I visit a joint like this."** _

" Yeah?" Jason asked, barely hearing his own hallucinations over the music and clatter and laughter. " What?" 

**_" When I suspect some busybody might be tailing me, I like to weave through places like this and sneak out the backdoor. Mind you, that would never work if daddy bats was onto me, so...."_ **

" So you know I'm following you." Jason finished for him grimly.

_**" Bingo!"** _

That was food for thought. How had the Joker spotted him when he was driving and Jason ran along a back alleyway to catch up? It didn't really matter, what did was that Jason caught up with that step the other was ahead. 

Jason found the backdoor and sure enough, it was left ajar, allowing breaths of cold night air to slip into the grounds of the devil's playground. He knew it wasn't smart, but he was long and far past the point of caution. He slipped into the alley, it was dingy and black, barely illuminated by the fuzzy yellow glow of the streetlights. Tugging the gun he'd collected from where he'd stuffed it into his belt, he cocked it with a subtle click of metal rolling on metal.

He was prepared for all matter of things to go down, nerves stretched beyond their capacity and a swarm of fire ants were picking him to bits, eating and making him sick to his stomach with both anticipation and  _dread_. He wanted this. And he didn't. 

Up ahead, he could make out feet scuffling on the filthy ground and two voices engaged in a mostly one-sided conversation. It sounded heated yet taunting at once. He had no initial thought that it was Joker, because he'd recognise that monster's voice anywhere and he was lanky, thin like a goddamn runner bean, not like the visibly bulkier man talking down a woman pressed into the wall with one hand running down it, and the other covering her split lip.

The sight alone kicked flames into Jason and he quickened his pace, fitting three strides into the place of one. He's sure his eyes maddened visibly when the man shoved the girl and she fell, hitting the ground with a teary gasp and a loud thud. She barely caught herself and looked like she wounded her wrist when she did.

A subterranean growl rose up Jason's throat. The man stopped pummelling the girl when he noticed Jason, so close, more than close enough to put a bullet into his miserable skull. 

" Get the fuck away from her." Jason warned him, coming between the snivelling, fallen girl and the asshole who took a wise step back. Though, not a fearful one, but he claimed the distance he needed to survey Jason up and down.

" Mind your own business, laddie." He spat, voice turned harsh like nails on chalkboard after a lifetime of smoking and cheap booze. The bastard was somewhere around Bruce's age, but nowhere near as gracefully aged. 

" Walk away now," Jason warned darkly, " Or you get a chunk of lead to chew on." To show he wasn't playing around, he shoved the muzzle of his gun into the guy's throat, finger uncomfortably perched on the trigger. What he wouldn't give to correct its position into something more familiar....

Smartening up, he took the threat seriously.

" Well, there ain't no need for that, kiddo. See, I was just... correcting the girl's mistake. Gotta teach the bitches, doncha?" 

While he spoke his insufferable line of utter retardation, Jason's hard gaze sidled to the fallen girl, shivering and staring with wide teary eyes at the paint strokes of her blood swiped across the ground. Had he himself never looked like that, so pained and afraid, he would have still done as he planned.

".... I wouldn't be opposed to a pretty lid'l thing like you getting in on the fun." The bastard continued on, as if it completely went by him how much hate Jason regarded him with.

" Now if you'd let me go, we can arrange that..."  

Jason took a step back from him and jerked his head in the direction of the alley's mouth, looking out at the street.

"  _Get_." He ordered, seeing relief shift in the man's features, relief he wouldn't admit to. Men who hurt women and children, they were only big and macho until someone their own size joined the tango. Someone who could stand their ground. And then all that manly tough-guy act melted to nothing but the cowardliness that had always been beneath.

He stepped past Jason, giving the girl a murderous look, and started to head off. Jason counted six meters before he turned and fired a bullet into the back of the fucker's thick, empty skull. It was an easy life to take. The shot ran clear through the air, along with the girl's scream of fear and panic, then the thwap when the body fell onto its knees, then its face.

**_" Phew. Gotta admit, Jasey, for a second there I thought you'd gone soft. Don't scare your uncle J like that, boyo."_ **

" G - get away from me." The girl pleaded through her bruised jaw and split lip, terrified when Jason offered his hand to help her up, putting the gun away. Shaking violently from cold and her gut-wrenching fear of him, she kicked in his direction and backed into the brick wall behind her. Her clothes - if they could be called that - were torn, a shredded mini skirt and crop top, formerly bright yellow. Her skin was covered in bruises, and caked with blood and dirt, blonde hair equally filthy. She couldn't be older than sixteen. He knew what she did for a living, he didn't let it deter him. Few people did  _that_  because they wanted to. Being a street urchin himself, he had no space for judgement when it came to how you kept yourself fed. 

" D - don't come a - anything c - closer." 

" I'm not gonna hurt you." Jason tried assuring her when he knelt, simultaneously pulling the zipper of his hoodie all the way down. He shrugged the garment off, exposing himself to the chilling night air, and extended it to her. She was confused when he offered it, and he simply said,

" You're cold." That was an understatement; the poor thing was pale as a bleached ghost and shaking violently, teeth chattering loudly while her jaw trembled, lip quivering. With her eyes, she searched him for a dishonest trace or anything that betrayed an ulterior motive. She didn't find one. He didn't have one, and when she accepted that, he leaned in close enough so he could drape the hoodie around her thin shoulders. It was way too big for her, more like a tunic than anything else, but it would provide some defence against the bitter cold.  

" Th - thank you." She whispered, her voice raw from crying, the black fingers of mascara still wet down her face. She shifted in the hoodie, practically swimming in it but her shaking had already subsided somewhat. That thing had trapped enough of his body heat to transfer to her. 

Jason had almost forgotten the damn clown when he asked her,

" What's your name? I'm Jason." 

" M - Mia." 

" A pleasure." Jason told her when he stood, careful so as not to frighten her with any sudden movements. Again, he extended his hand for her to take and hesitantly, she reached for it.

" You're gonna be okay, Mia." He promised her in his most convincing voice, all the while he hoped he wasn't lying. His fingers enveloped Mia's far smaller limb, gently helping her to her feet. Her head only reached his shoulder, dwarfed by him.

" J - Jason," 

He was surprised when she said his name, but replied nonetheless.

" Yes?"  

Mia looked up at him with her big teary eyes, something strongly remorseful about them and he didn't know why.

" I - I'm sorry-"

" What?"

" - He - he said he'd kill me." Mia finished on the tail end of a sob and  Jason tried to take an apprehensive step back from her then and there, not before a concealed taser in her hand crashed into his middle. Like having a seizure, his body convulsed and locked when the electrical currents ripped through him, their bright flashes lighting up the dark alleyway. He didn't remember if he made a sound of any sort and the next thing he knew, a jolt of him hitting the ground ran through his blurry field of understanding. 

"  _Woohoo-_! We're in for a baller of a night now!" 

 _That_ , Jason didn't know if that was in his head or out of it, but he did faintly recall a purple suit and blood smile, leering too close, before all faded to black.

* * *

 

" Well, hello there, lovey-love." The crooked grin split ever wider when Jason's lashes began to flutter, but everything was foggy and kept blurring around the edges. This must be hell because he was seeing four clowns, all swirling around one another until he began to regain a clear head, and the horrible transparent imagery centred into one monstrous being. 

 _Joker_. Joker was here, a meter away, watching Jason with delight in his toxin green eyes and a burst of laughter teetering on the edge of his teeth, ready to break free at any moment. 

_**" Say, I am far more devilishly handsome than I recall. Don't you think, baby bird?"** _

" Baby bird, whatcha doin' out in the city without daddy to protect your sweet self?" 

_**" And still just as suave as ever!"** _

" Don't you know it's dangerous when you're all by yourself? Why, anyone could come along and make you theirs." 

_**" He's got a point, pumpkin. Too bad you listened to me when don't you know, I can't be trusted?"** _

" My dear, it's never a good idea to follow a clown down a dark alley. Haven't you ever read creepypasta?" 

Jason shook his aching head roughly. Too many Jokers talking at once. He couldn't focus on his surroundings, still disoriented from the shock and dammit, so long as he lived, he was never helping another person for any reason. When he moved, he heard the soft clinking of chainlinks together and quickly became aware of his arms being elevated, in line with his shoulders. A solid, painfully rigid bar sat across the back of his neck, wrists fastened to it and the coldness of chain circling his throat, strenuous to swallow against. He couldn't stand, stuck on his knees, more chain attached to the bar and then by some means, to the floor. By the look of it, this was the backroom of that strip club he'd gone through, a decrepit office out of use perhaps, but he could no longer hear music from the room over. All was silent say for the screaming sound of impending panic. 

" Didn't learn from our last one-on-one, did you, Jason?" Joker inquired in a sing-song voice, like a kid rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. 

" Fuck you." Jason spat despite himself, well aware he was in deep shit. To hell with his entire life. 

" Do I have to wash your mouth out again, kiddo? Then again, why waste the dish soap when you obviously never learn from mistakes?" 

" Get these damn chains off and I'll show you just how much I've learned." There was poison in Jason's voice, oozing out of every word and syllable, all coming together in an attempt to mask the inner Robin who trembled in fear. He wasn't poor little Batman's sidekick and Joker. He was the damn  _Arkham Knight_  and the party clown. He kept reminding himself of that, over and over. 

**_" But the Knight and Robin still equal Jason and Joker...."_ **

After that, the thought had no solace left to it. He yanked at his binds but ended with only rattling them, bruising his skin and making Joker more entertained than his captive state already had him.

" Haha! You can't get free, Jason!"

_**" Hihihihih! It's so true!"** _

Jason growled at his merriment. " What do you want,  _clown_?"

With his all-too-familiar silken glove, Joker wiped a tear of laughter from the corner of his eye, somehow smearing none of the black panda-like eyeshadow that was smudged around them. 

" First off," he began when he could contain himself. " I want to know what happened to your face? That lovely J wasn't always there, if I recall."

" I ran into a bastard with a branding iron." Jason said, teeth set hard enough to hurt, glaring pure hatred up at the older man, who had  the mentality of an evil twelve-year-old.

" You did? Ha! That's the most hysterical thing!" He shriek-laughed, doubling over with his thin arms around his middle. He did that for a solid minute before he could regain himself enough to appear semi-respectful, for a clown, that is.

_**" I knew we'd have a hoot following me! Hohoho!"** _

Perhaps literally, Jason could feel his temples caving in with both these rotten voices mouthing off at once. He needed at least one to shut up before he went completely insane. 

" And secondly," Joker continued with his original sentence. " I was havin' a bit of fun on the ole town, me and a darling few grenades. Humble, I know, but I can do a lot with a little. But then I got to thinkin' that all in all, I could've done so much more with my evening. I wasn't as productive as I'd have liked." The demented clown explained, sitting on the edge of the dusty desk nearby and beginning to playfully kick his legs, heels bouncing off the side.

" He didn't say it - wonderful husband that he is - but I know Batsie was a tad disappointed in me tonight." Joker cocked his head like a parrot when he spoke. " Gotta do more to keep the relationship alive, y'know, kiddo?"

 **"..... Bats is mine!** **_Jason_ ** **\- tell him to back off!"**

" So, I was thinking..."

**_" Pumpkin, if you don't tell him right now-"_ **

".... You and I could,"

_**" - there'll be a switching in it for you later!"** _

Joker raised Jason's gun from where he'd left it on the surface of his perch, waving it around tauntingly. His grin widened to an impossible length and a gleam of pure sadism ignited in his eye.

" I thought we could explore the various uses of the common firearm. Like, for example, what happens when its discharged against the human spine." 

With every word he spoke, Jason felt his blood grow colder until it dropped below zero, and his desperation to escape grew ever stronger.  Not for the first time in the presence of the Joker, he considered mutilating himself to get free, dislocating his thumbs or pulling until some part of his hands gave way, and he was seriously considering it again. It wouldn't hurt half as bad as Joker's plans for his idiot self. He had to listen to the hallucination, didn't he? 

**_" I hope you don't get the chain around your neck off."_ **

" I really ought to thank you, Jason," Joker got off the desk and with confident strides began approaching, smile quirking further up his face when Jason began to struggle to get his limbs loose. He pulled and twisted but it wasn't working - they were too tight!

" I would have had no extended fun for bae if you hadn't tagged along. I have a feelin' he'll get a kick out this, don't you?" He taunted, circling Jason and Jason was inept to match his pattern of movement, restrained, unable to do anything to keep his eyes pinned on the clown. He thrashed harder, squirmed to release himself but may as well be swimming up a waterfall. Riddled with full-blown panic at this point, Jason was already feeling the phantom pain his body was trained to anticipate whenever the Joker was near. 

" As I recall," Joker said when with a gasp from Jason,  he jammed the gun into the small of his back, about to leave a ragged bloody tunnel through his spine. Those horrid red lips were right next to his ear, the clown's breath caressing his goose-bump covered skin. The cold metal of the weapon seeped through the tank top he was left wearing after Mia, but it couldn't send chills cascading the way Joker did.

" Dear Barbara Gordon reacted quite spontaneously to this. Let's see if you will." 

Jason's breathing was scarily quick, too deep, and painfully sharp, muscles gone rigid as stone in fear of when the firestorm would ignite, make his entire system scream and the thundering of agony to pound. He fully expected the bullet to sail through him at any second now and still managed to hiss,

" Go fuck yourself, Joker."

" You really do have a nasty mouth on you, Jason. Maybe we blast the jaw off that pretty face next, hmm?"  

Jason swallowed. This was gonna hurt like nothing else. He tried to keep his breaths from stumbling, to not give Joker the satisfaction of seeing him scared, but that was easier said than done. He heard Joker chuckling and tauntingly  inching back the trigger, and he prepared for  _it_  as much as he possibly could.

And then by some one in a million chance, his god-save, if you will, the door Joker had locked burst off its hinges and there stood the Dark Knight. Joker nor Jason could react before a duo of batarangs left his hand and glinted through the air while they cut it. One sent the gun spinning from Joker's hand, the other thudded into his shoulder when Jason had expected it to be reserved for him. Blood exploded and the clown stumbled back, away from Jason, holding his bleeding shoulder while he pinned his gaze on Bruce.

"  _Bat-cakes_! You're finally here!"

_**" Stay away from him! He's mine!"** _

Bruce wasn't having any more of his shit tonight. He speed walked across the room, ignoring Jason to punch Joker in the head similar to the way he had Jason on the rooftop. It was an instant knockout and he bastard clown had the nerve to go down smiling. Bruce was quick to restrain him then he looked to Jason. He didn't say anything. Jason didn't expect him to. And  _no_ , it wasn't relief or anything like it that he briefly entertained when  _daddy_  burst in.

Then he started coming closer until he loomed over Jason, dread looming with him too. His hands moved and Jason couldn't help flinching for when the blow would come.

And then it never did and to Jason's utmost confusion, Bruce's fingers began to carefully work the lock fastening the chain around his neck. It rattled and the links jangled together, Bruce's hands surprisingly warm when they grazed his skin, even through his gauntlets. Soon, the pressure around his throat was slipping free and next, he started on the wrists.

" Wh - what are you doing?" Jason asked him, bemused as he stared.

**_" What's it look like?"_ **

" I'm freeing you." Bruce said like it wasn't obvious. Fucking Batman and his stupid charity work of pretending he cared. Clearly, he was thinking of Hood when he refrained to hurt Jason. He knew Jason  _wasn't_  Hoodie, didn't he?

_**".... Isn't he dashing, all dressed to kill in his spandex? My, my, my... Pumpkin, will you give Bats a kiss from me?"** _

" I'd rather blow a tiger shark." Jason grumbled and it didn't go missed that Bruce glanced down at him, but by now he knew Jason spoke to the ghost in his skull more often than real people.

Bruce let him free and Jason didn't thank him for it. Actually, the moment he could, Jason swung his fist at Bruce, aiming at any part he could, only to strike  him rather powerlessly in the chest. Bruce stepped back and Jason ended up throwing himself off balance. He caught himself on his hands and knees, knuckles stinging from the collision with the hardest part of the Bat's suit and anger bubbling. Now the fucker showed up to save him from Joker.  _Now_. Years after he needed it.

Jason - on all fours - scowled venom and salt at the floor his hands were flat on. He pulled his fingers into fists when he heard Bruce's steps behind him, his heavy gloved hand about to land on his shoulder; Jason whacked him away with a swing of his arm and while he backed off, Jason picked himself off the ground. He didn't turn around and face  _Hood's_  Bruce, not while he had invisible specs of dust to clean off himself. 

He hadn't needed the Dark Knight to come to save his ass.  _Didn't_  fucking need it. He'd needed Daddy Bats before but somehow, had made it through on his own. He could have done it again. 

" Did he hurt you?" Bruce had the damn gall to ask and pretend he cared. And did he really think Joker had him wrapped up in chains to tickle him to death? 

" Don't worry about it, Bats. Just bruises." Jason muttered and tightened his hands, knuckles popping. He continued to hold the floor in a vicious captive stare, the floor and bar with the chains on.

" Let me see."

" Go fuck yourself."

" Jason-"

" What do you want, Bruce?" Vicious as a spitting cobra, Jason demanded, spun around on his heel, more angry and confused than he could accept he actually was. Bruce wasn't supposed to help him and now that he had, he was still here for what?

" I want to go over your injuries." Bruce replied, unaffected by Jason's harshness. " They might be worse than you think."

" Well, ain't you the fucking gentleman?" Jason sarcastically bit. " You gonna buy me dinner too and we go see a movie?  _No_? Then get the hell away from me."

Silence ensued, short and sour, broken by Bruce's solemn voice asking him,

" What happened between us, Jason?"

For a moment, Bruce induced a quietness among them the likes of which was torturous. Until,

".... You really wanna know?" Jason glowered, feeling rage,  _bitterness_  beating its wings in his chest. Jason didn't really want him to do it, but Bruce dipped his head  _yes_. He just rolled a cartridge into the gun Jason had on them.

Alright, Jason'd humour Bruce with the tale of their falling out. Or the summary, at least.

" You  _left_  me with  _Joker_. You didn't even try to find me." He did, Jason knew that, but he gave up quick enough for it not to count.

" Jay, I'd  _never_  abandon you with Joker." Bruce told him, sincere it sounded like, only Jason knew that couldn't be true. It was just more bullshit.

" But you  _did_. Then, you replaced me a month later. You promised to help me and you fucking  _died_."

" Son, listen to me-"

" I'm not you damn  _son_ , Bruce!" Jason exclaimed, arms thrown wide apart at this point because Bruce just wasn't  _getting_  it.

" You know why? Not Joker or Tim and not you breaking your damn promise, it started way before then. It's - it's 'cause-" Jason's voice became brittle as dry bone, breaks splintering through his words faster than he could stop it.

" 'Cause you let  _Dick_  hurt me." He felt something wet and warm slide in trails over his lashline, and he saw it physically affect Bruce then not know how that response affected  _him_.

" How did he hurt you?" Bruce asked, more sympathetically than he should be, gentler than he had the  _right_  to be. He knew what Dick did to Hood, he must have some idea what the nut job was capable of. But he wanted  _Jason_  to say it.

Fine. Fine, if that's how he wanted it, Jason would do it. Cue the montage.

" First time, he busted my ribs. Second, beat the shit outta me. Third, tried to throw me off a twenty storey building. Then he slammed my head in a goddamn door." - Jason probably  _shouldn't_  be smiling wryly through this- "Started misplacing equipment from my utility belt so I couldn't find it when I needed to, and had a much higher chance of getting fucked up by criminals.  An' it goes on like that."

" I'm sure I didn't know." Bruce said, speaking on behalf of his counterpart. And he spoke carefully, like Jason's ears were made of glass and any wrong, hard or too loud sound could make them break into one thousand pieces. 

" Don't lie to me, Bruce. I'm not fucking stupid, okay? You're the goddamn  _Batman_ , you must've picked up on something. But Dickie's the golden boy an' I'm just the street rat, so why step in?" Jason didn't hide the amount of salt he was exuding, he couldn't if he wanted to as he stared the other down with intensity to kill. And Bruce stared back, Jason could feel the gears in his head turning from behind the cowl, as if he suddenly decided he gave a shit about any of this.  

Bruce had no struggle believing what the alternate Dick had done was true, not when knowing he'd so effortlessly put a knife through Jason. The stall in his response came from something else entirely; he was trying to understand if his double had indeed known what was going on underneath his roof, and done nothing. He couldn't imagine himself ever doing so. He  _couldn't_. If he'd been aware of what Dick was doing to Jason,  how the hell could he allow it? As a world-leading detective, he would have picked up on at least a few tiny signs. 

" Jason, you need to calm down." Hardly more than a whisper, Bruce told him, worried about how tightly wound up his alternate son was getting, tight enough to full-on snap at any moment. And for someone already immensely unstable, that was a kill switch or drop of ink to a death certificate.

" I can't tell you if he knew. Chances are, he did notice someone was hurting you.  How do you know he didn't put it down you getting hurt on patrol?" Bruce took a step closer to Jason, neither's expression bearing a hint of change.

" That's what you told him, isn't it? To cover it up?"

Jason's eyes narrowed, so true blue Bruce found it difficult not to focus on that alone.

" So you're sayin' it's  _my_  fault for not telling you?" A smile nowhere near sane crept up his lips. Jason, cynical as ever, didn't give Bruce the necessary second to correct him. He gave a bitter laugh through the tears and madness. 

" Dick said you'd blame  _me_."

" God's sake, Jason." Bruce sighed, feeling his head literally caving in but also, he kept reminding himself, and doing it frequently, that this Jason wasn't... He wasn't right. He was badly   _damaged_. That wasn't his fault, neither was what Dick had done. Fighting Jason, not only did Bruce not want to, but also, that wouldn't help with anything.

" I'm sorry if I knew and never did anything." Bruce said, ditching the third person since Jason honestly seemed to not be able to tell the man he was bitter towards was not  _him_ , exactly. But he could go along with this. 

" That's failure on my part, not yours."

" You don't fucking say."

" But I won't fail you again." Bruce promised him and Jason's gaze became a narrow sliver of blue.

" I don't believe you."

" Then I'll prove it to you."

" I don't  _trust_  you." That part, it shivered when he said it. Shivered because it was all that was left of Jason's belief in his former father, just shattered and broken fragments Bruce was praying weren't beyond repair. His Jason or not, the overwhelming urge to help him was unfightable. Damn, he'd been so scared Joker would hurt him. Or worse.

" Let me earn your trust back, Jason." Bruce came closer to him again.

"  _Please_. Let's fix this." Bruce said and those four feather-light words had an unforeseeable affect on Jason. It broke a dam with no water to burst through, perhaps instead memories flooded him.

" We  _can't_." Jason croaked, his voice strained by tears he was refusing himself. He was thinking back on something, that's why he was now like this. Bruce didn't ask him what it was that pressed on his heart.

" Yes, we can." Bruce assured him. "We start by making sure Dick never hurts you again."

" I don't want to go back." Jason mumbled, hopelessness in his eyes when he fixed them on the ground. It sounded in part, like a plea.

" You won't. At least, not to the way it was. I promise." 

Jason finally raised his face, debating with himself whether to take the hand of help Bruce offered, or to slap it away. The struggle was real when he so clearly was tempted to accept, but something held him back. He'd been burned too many times to jump to high hopes.

".... You'll really help  _me_? I hurt Hood, and I hurt Dick and Roy. You remember that, don't you? An' I'm whacked in the head, I won't promise I'll be a good little Robin. I kill people and I'm not sorry."

" I know that." Bruce admitted, but it was no impossible obstacle he hadn't dealt with before. " But you're my son."

Something in Jason's features shifted between nameless emotions and Bruce did  _want_  to hug him, make sure he knew it would be okay. But, he wasn't about to push his luck. This was distance enough for one day.

" And we're going to fix this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, hello there, my sweet-faces. This is one chapter split into two, where we should've heard from not only Tim, but Damian as well, who I know we're all dying get to, but I had to divide and conquer because otherwise this woulda been far too long and I don't love you munchkins enough to proof-read 8k words.... I proofread 7.5K. 
> 
> Also, if you really know your Speedies, then you'd have recognised the girl Jason helped as none other than Mia Dearden, aka Speedy-to-be. Cool cameo or what? I'll take what because speaking of - what's this?? I glimmer of hope?! 
> 
> Sorry, I'll go home. It's that Christmas hype making me more insufferable than normal XD
> 
> But before I bless you with my absence, do you guys think AK-Bruce knew about Dick's evil side? Would he really have done nothing if he did?


	16. Enemy of My Enemy

No sooner had they entered the Watchtower, that Diana released Tim from her bone-crushing arms. He all but stumbled the next few feet and when he regained his balance sufficiently, he whipped around, confused and angry at them for believing the perfect and pure Dick Grayson over him and logical thought. He _wasn't_ the one who had a mental break down over Bruce's death, because he _wasn't_ raised by Bruce and he _hadn't_ known him for almost twenty years. 

" I'm sorry for that, Tim." Long before he could make his justifications and defensive arguments, Diana apologised, marine blue eyes gravely lowered to his lesser height. Tim felt like she just hit him and  _that_  would have been less whiplash to deal with. 

"  _What_?" Tim's brows were raised.

Clark stepped in, quiet until now. " Son, we needed to get you away from Dick without giving him the chance to hurt you or anyone else."  

" Ehh.... what? You did what?" Tim's grown wide gaze went from Superman to Wonder Woman in turn, neither expressing a fraction of that accusation they had at the cave. 

" Dick..." Diana began and she swallowed, heavily, downing the emotion. " He's changed since Bruce died. We noticed subtle differences; he got aggressive,  violent, snappy. But, we didn't know the extent of it until Barbara-"

" Barbara,  _what_? Where's Babs?" Tim demanded. He was beginning to see what they were trying to tell him, but he hardly cared for a monologue about the fall of Dick Grayson when he'd always been more or less nuts. He cared about his  _girlfriend_ and her whereabouts. He wanted to know she was okay. 

Sighing through her nose, Diana motioned with her hand for him to follow and lead the way to the Watchtower's control room. They were quiet as they walked, Tim couldn't even begin to imagine what was going through the heads of the League's surviving founders. Did they really know the truth about their beloved Grayson? How long for? To what extent? Why didn't they do anything to stop him?

Barbara turned her wheelchair to the opening door when they stepped into the room, walls lined with monitors and computers that might confuse even Batman.... On second thought, Batman - the real one - designed this particular room and probably most of the tower. It was simply one in the many accomplishments he left behind. Dick was not one of said accomplishments.

" Babs!" Tim exclaimed, relieved beyond words when he took a few running strides to her and all but crashed onto his knees to hug her at her own level. 

" You're okay...." He murmured into her neck while her warm fingers contrasted his cold skin, sliding the length of his arched back, up and down in a soothing motion.

" What the hell is going on?" Tim asked when he eventually pulled back, to arm's length, and stared at her, his priorities back in check now that he knew she was safe and away from Dick.

" I contacted Diana and Clark after you left for the cave." Barbara began, Tim still on his knees with both her hands in his as he awaited explanation. He believed it when it came from _her_ , not Superman and not Wonder Woman.

" I showed them the footage....." At this point, Tim felt both Diana and Clark avert their gazes out of some inability to face them then. Tim knew what they were thinking; they should have seen the insanity behind the bright smile and sparkling blue eyes before it ended with someone innocent  _dead_. Yeah, they all should have done more than they did. 

" They agreed to help me immediately, but Dick needed to think he was winning or he might have done something to hurt you or otherwise endangered someone. If the Arkham Knight is any example to go by, then a cornered man with a broken mind in more dangerous than any superhuman."   

Tim blinked, once, twice, taking in what his girlfriend had done and put the rest together himself. 

" Why didn't you tell me what you were planning?"

Barbara tipped her head with a small smile, the nature of the situation be damned. " You're not a convincing actor. If Dick suspected he was being played, someone would be dead." Fair enough, she wasn't wrong about that first part. A cornered man, like she had said, was a potent threat. 

" So, you guys know," Tim shifted ever so slightly to look at Diana and Clark. " About Dick... why didn't you grab him at the cave, and not me? I can't beat him but you two sure as hell can."

Once again, Diana lowered her eyes to her armoured boots, unable to say more over the grief it caused her to know, that the eight-year-old she loved and watched grow up became this monster now under their beds. Except, he no longer cared to stay hidden. Or, had he ever disguised himself with more than the veils of denial that filmed the vision of those surrounding him?

" Dick is paranoid," Clark began when he realised Diana wouldn't. " He always carries Kryptonite with him, and to top it off, a few days ago, Diana's bracelets were stolen from her home and replaced with look-alikes. We don't know if Dick did it, but-"

" If he did," Tim continued for Clark. He couldn't keep himself from cutting in once his brain began to form an image. " And he destroys them, all hell breaks loose." Tim vividly recalled Bruce once telling him that if Wonder Woman's enchanted bracelets were to ever be destroyed, she would go into an uncontrollable rage that could result in catastrophe, the death of hundreds. If not  _thousands_. Yes, Tim could see why Clark and Diana were apprehensive beyond reasons of sentimentality when it came to engaging Dick. The lunatic had thought this through more than he'd been credited for. 

" Then we get someone else from the Lea-" 

" Too late." Barbara cut in. She'd rolled back to her monitors and had her sights fixed on a notification that just sprung up. 

" Sensors show a zeta tube opened up, destination 52. It's Dick." Barbara said over the rapid click-clacking of her fingers darting from key to key and eyes flickering over waves of information the human brain shouldn't be able to process all at once. But then, she wasn't human. She was Oracle.

Tim shot to his feet at that, hand instinctively searching the empty space on his belt where his staff should have been, only to remember he lost it at the cave. Loss of his weapon did nothing to dissipate the sureness of his intentions. 

" We need to go after him."

" We can't. All the recent back-and-forth across our dimension to 52 has severely weakened the fabric between them. One more dimensional breach in this small window of time could mean something very bad for both. A paradox." Barbara explained, never looking away from her monitor. Tim wanted to curse at the reality of her prediction, because it was true. What number were they up to now, four jumps? Five? 

" Then what?" Tim asked, snapping out of his anxiousness. " We let Dick kill Jason,  _again_?"

" No. Absolutely not." She replied, hard, no room for any option other than the one she presented. Though rare, Tim knew that tone and what it meant. It meant that there was not a chance in hell Dick was accomplishing what he intended. 

" We can't help Jason from here and we can't go to him. But, we can contact someone who can."

* * *

Driving back towards the mansion, Bruce glanced at Jason from the corner of his eye, taking to count how he was shivering from the cold but staring blankly at the road ahead, without any word of complaint, vice versa to how Bruce's own Jason would be cursing the sky for making it snow or whining about global warming not doing its job. It was odd how quiet he was, but then again, he did have a lot to process.

They both did.

Without making it known he realised Jason was cold, he reached out and turned the heating up a few degrees. Soon, Bruce no longer heard his teeth chattering past his attempts to mute the sound. Another glance, this time one that lingered longer, Bruce studied the webs and thick lines of scars taking up seemingly every bit of skin Jason had. Bruce hadn't seen his arms until now, so he hadn't seen the bands of scars around both his wrists, reminiscent of an inhumane amount time he'd spent restrained with either cuffs, or chains, or anything else that could be sharp enough to cut if pulled against hard enough. Circling his biceps were rows and rows of small tears and pin-prick marks, by closest comparison, and Bruce had seen something similar to that in the past. At one point in time, barbed wire had been used to tie Jason down, keep him in place while fuck knew what Joker did to him. Or _with_ him. Then to boot, there was the J-brand forever burned into his face. And God (and Jason) alone knew what marrings his clothes were hiding.

It was all so cruel, but exactly what could be expected from the Joker.

Bruce would never say it aloud. He could hardly say it to himself, but he was feeling a tingle of gratefulness that his Jason had been killed by Joker, and not subjected to the true extent of the torturous insanity the madman was capable of. Was it morally decayed he was happier the bomb went off, than if it hadn't? Yes. Absolutely, no part of him didn't realise how bad it was that _that's_ what he was thinking. But, it also seemed the kinder of the two fates, if there was a kinder one. 

Although, Bruce liked to believe if his Jason had been kept by Joker, then he would have found him without ever giving up. But then, had his counterpart also thought that, once upon a time?

" Hood like you starin' at him?" Jason asked and Bruce only then realised that Jason's eyes had strayed to meet his own head on. He was leaning back against the seat, after the seventy hours Bruce calculated he'd been awake for, looking understandably tired. He wondered if Jason's seeming refusal to eat or sleep or otherwise give into the necessities his body demanded had anything to do with his imprisonment. There was one more thing to add to the list of unhealthy aspects to him. At some sick point in Jason's young life, he may have become so accustomed to torture that he depended on it, then subconsciously became his own ravager. But it's just a theory.

" He doesn't care." Bruce admitted, turning his gaze back to the road but he felt Jason's attention not waver from him. If anything, it intensified.

" Why's he so different to me?" Jason asked, quite out of the blue, though Bruce had to admit, he himself had considered what the answer may be to that very question once or twice (or eight million times).

" You're not as different as you think, Jason. Behaviourally, Red is a lot like you."

" 'Cept he's not, is he?" Jason sat up straight. " I mean, he's got the 'snap, you don't hate him, Dick doesn't hate him, then there's that demon brat - what's his name? _Damian_?" Bruce nodded and Jason went on.

" It's not just him who's different to me; it's this whole damn family and world that's polar to where I come from."

" We're from alternate worlds, Jason," Bruce began to explain, patient. " If they were the same in every way, they would be the same dimension. And as far as my experience goes, your dimension is the most similar to mine, that I've yet encountered."

"  _Really_?" Jason scrunched up his brow in question. He was far more talkative than Bruce expected him to be on the drive home, granted he'd only said a total of six sentences to Bruce and the rest to himself, but _still_. This was more than he'd allowed himself to hope for.

" Yes." Bruce told him out of certainty then Jason fell silent with the confirmation to brew over. Bruce watched the road, turning from city streets and rows of buildings to a forested road as they neared the manor. He was thinking. Some things needed to be discussed before they got there,

" Jason, if Red tries anything - attacking you and such, let _me_ handle it, okay? Don't instigate him and don't engage him." Bruce advised - more like ordered, as there was no doubt in his mind that his son would do exactly what he suspected; _attack_. That wasn't out of either Jasons' character.

" _Pft_." Jason scoffed, rolling his eyes. " That fucking bitch can't beat me an' I think he still has the bruises to remember that by."

"  _Jason_. If I'm going to be able to help you, it means you listening to me and not hurting anyone."

Rolling his eyes again, this time hard enough to grind them on his sockets, Jason huffed out an irritated, immature  _fine_. Damn, he had a lot more in common with his counterpart than he could admit to himself. Actually, he probably couldn't see the more obvious similarities like the childish moodiness.

" And don't antagonise Red with anything about Roy, alright? Jason's.... protective of him." Sheesh, if that wasn't an understatement (flashback to Jason ignoring his family existed for six months when Dick and Roy had a sparring _accident_ ) and again, he could see the Knight doing exactly that, making some remark to intentionally piss Jason off and push him to react. Both his sons were literally, _exactly_ as bad as the other.

" Relax, Bats. S'not like I was gonna say anythin' to Hood about how fucking  _adorable_  ginger is." A taunt, there was a taunt to go along with his snarky smirk, clear as day in his voice.

" Leave Red alone, I'll make him do the same with you. Got it?" Bruce was sterner this time around because Jason needed a solid  _no_  in regards to harassing his counterpart. And that went for both Jasons.

" If he-"

The batmobile filled with static from the radio before Jason could get his protest out ( _maybe_  Bruce was happy for that), and it snatched up both their attention. Bruce turned the dial and tuned into the long-distance station someone was trying to reach him through, with a frown of puzzlement. Who was this now? Not anyone from the manor, they would have used comms.

 _" Bruce, it's Orac- I'm from the Ark - night's dimension and if you're re - iving this mess- ge, I need you t - e quiet and listen,"_   _Barbara_ ; that alone had Jason perk up to pay attention, or more so the fact that she sounded urgent and was the version of her that he was accustomed to. Bruce turned the volume higher but that didn't help with the breaking up audio.

" Bab-" Jason tried but Bruce hushed him with a raised hand and a  _shh_.

 _" Dick is t - ere and he's - for J - son. He - ll kill - need to s - op him. He's extremely dangerous - won't hesitate to h -rt so - one. You have t - him down - fore he -"_  The call cut off to a piercing ringing that sounded like a flatline. Jason shifted anxiously and rapidly fiddled with the dials, trying every way he knew to sharpen the signal and when that failed him, he tuned back into the long-distance frequency to nothing but an earful of static.

" What the hell happened to her?" Jason demanded and it didn't escape Bruce's realisation how Jason was concerned to death over Barbara's predicament and sudden disappearance. It was clear to see, plastered on every single inch of his body language. He didn't appear to have realised what Barbara was warning them about and how dire that was for him.

" Oracle's managed to somehow reach us from another dimension-" Bruce couldn't imagine how she had, but she was  _Oracle-_ "The call cut off due to interferences in the connection. Nothing more." He did hope that was indeed true, while he pressed harder on the gas. Dammit. He needed to regroup with his family asap and form a plan. It was never an easy thing when a Bat went rogue (even an alternate one) and they made the hardest enemies due to their vast knowledge of how Batman operated, made harder still when they had it out for a fellow Bat.

And what Dick did to Jason... well, he'd made it clear he was by no means, one to be reasoned with. Good, because Bruce didn't reason with anyone who hurt his children. Even when it was Dick who did it.

" What are we going to do?" Jason asked him, his playful mannerism a thing of the past and replaced with the seriousness that came with the man who wanted him dead being in a place where he could now accomplish it.

" We do what's necessary. Dick isn't unbeatable."

" I can handle him myself-"

"  _No_." Bruce gave him a stern glance, unwavering to his damn stubborn nature to do everything by himself. " You aren't alone in this, like I already told you and I  _meant_  it."

With his eyes, Jason searched him for a hint of insincerity and something he wasn't used to, he didn't find a lie among the promise. "Dick isn't stupid. He's not here, wavin' a knife and hoping I fall on it before you get your hands around his neck. He's got a plan."

" I know." Bruce grunted out the side of his mouth, doing mental laps trying to put a pin in every way he knew that Dick could hurt them  _right_  now. He'd have to immediately send a high-alert to all his allies, both inside and out of Gotham, call the cave and tell them to up security because, _yes_ , this fell into the category of what could be considered an emergency.

He heard Jason sigh when he turned his attention back to the road.

"Why's _he_ the golden boy again?"

* * *

Damian ended up deciding to venture out late in the evening. He thought about asking Father for a lift, but he was too busy sorting Todd's latest bout of self-induced problems. He considered that he might ask Pennyworth to drive him to Bludhaven, but chose not to. Maybe he'd take a bus to go visit his brother? Damian did, after all, enjoy watching the strange and interesting people who used public transportation.

It was quarter to ten pm when Damian shouldered his backpack and headed off into the dark of night, feeling his cat squirming against his back until he finally found a comfortable way to lay. Alfred's solid warmth drained into Damian and his purring rumbled softly through both of them.

Damian didn't see Father or anyone else on his way out, but if Todd had done as he was told, then Father would know where he was and not worry. And if he _didn't_ , the idea that Todd was the blame brought a grin onto Damian's face. He did so enjoy it when Father and Todd didn't get along when it meant he would have Father all to himself. Todd had a distinct way of hogging Father's attention whenever he showed his face. 

Damian walked the desolate streets, still lit up by streetlights and the glow of them shimmered off the wet pavement. It had been snowing last night but it had already melted, before any of Damian's animals had the time to play in it. Bludhaven always seemed to be colder than Gotham, hopefully, there would be snow there.

It wasn't only that he longed for Grayson's above average company, but the other and perhaps more prominent reason that had Damian wanting to leave the manor was Todd's double. It wasn't the same thing, Damian was aware, but the Knight reminded him of Heretic,  _his_  clone. It was bizarre, but he couldn't keep his throat from tightening at any memory concerning the man Mother had artificially aged and genetically enhanced. What chance did Damian actually ever have against him? The thick scar across his middle was a fair percentage.

Those thoughts pressing on his mind, Damian made his way toward the bus stop. He would return once Todd's latest drama was cleaned up. The idea of murderous doppelgangers looking to replace their counterparts had been overdone too many times in the media for Damian to have the patience to deal with in real life.

He sighed quietly through his nose when he saw the bus stop up ahead. Three people were already there, looking miserable in the nippy cold and the late hour. Damian wondered if they were going to work. Graveyard shifts, perhaps?

Probably.

Alfred wriggled around, at last growing uncomfortable of his former position. Damian felt him push his head through the opening of the bag he'd intentionally left. Alfred sniffed the air, nose and whiskers alike twitching, curiously eyeing the city. Damian didn't regard him with any more attention than he gave the man who walked by. The boy glanced at him from the corner of his eye, for only a second before averting his gaze in disinterest to the road, catching only a flash of black of the stranger's coat.

" _Meow_!" Alfred began kicking and struggling to get free, burying his claws in the bag and pulling in his attempt to leave it. Cursing in Arabic, Damian attempted to manoeuvre his hands around to catch the animal but by then, the weight left his back and Alfred's claws clicked when they met the asphalt.

" Alfred, come back," Damian ordered while the cat padded after the man, meowing all the way, his little legs a blur and tail arched high above him. Damian speed-walked after, in no mood for his beloved pet's unusual shenanigans. He didn't usually do things like this, able and willing to ride in the backpack for hours.

"  _Alfred_." Damian repeated more sternly when Alfred pawed at the man's legs. The man stopped, turned to look at the cat, and then Damian stopped, brows raised.

" _Grayson_?" Lips parted in surprise, Damian eyed him up and down, somewhat stunned. It was definitely Grayson, although Damian couldn't remember if his nose had been broken the last time he saw him. There was a butterfly stitch over the bridge of it.

"  _Damian_...." Grayson started and he sounded slightly stiff, lacking the fluency of familiarity. " I didn't see you there. What're you doing here?"

" I was coming to find you, actually." Damian explained, bending down to pick Alfred up when he scurried back to him. He wrapped his small hands around Alfred and held him to his chest, their body heat intermingling while he watched the other. Grayson's hands were thrust deep into his pockets, eyes hooded by either tiredness or something else that made them dull and unsettling.

" You were? How nice."

" Why aren't you in Bludhaven?"

Grayson shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, as if to assure Damian there was nothing to analyse here. " Forgot somethin' over at the mansion and I gotta go pick it up."

" Hmm." Damian went over him again. He was good at reading people, it was part of his assassin training and Mother deemed it a more necessary skill than speech. Sometimes, Damian would agree with her but Father never did. He never seemed to agree with her on anything. But back to the point, everything he had been taught about translating a person's body language and demeanour into knowledge was screaming at him already, that something was wrong with Grayson. Could it be connected to why he abruptly left the mansion, to begin with?

" You know if Jay's still there?" He asked and Damian couldn't help but notice how his eyes narrowed a fraction at the name, just barely enough to see. 

" To the extent of my knowledge, Todd has yet to remove himself from Father's presence." Damian replied though felt like that in on its own, was far too much information to give him. Damian recalled how Todd's evil counterpart had struck Grayson, his eye had been black and swollen for days and in this instance, there wasn't so much as a ruptured blood vessel on Grayson's face to show the injury had ever been there. Damian's arms tightened around Alfred when he was beginning to see the truth here. Todd had said a sinister version of Grayson wounded him....

Damian needed to get back to the mansion and warn Father another doppelganger was in Gotham.

But just to make sure.

" Grayson," Damian began, keeping what he knew from showing up in his voice. They were right here, open and in plain sight in the street. Grayson's alternate would doubtfully start anything, but Damian was tense and ready for a fight nonetheless. _Instinct_. You live what you've learned. 

" Todd wants you and his gingersnap to make amends."

Dick adopted a somewhat baffled look, raising his brows ever so slightly. "  _Gingersnap_?"

" Yes," Damian nodded. " Todd's insufferably sugary new pet name for his partner; Harper."

" Oh, yeah, right," He bobbed his head with the falsified enthusiasm to make up for his confusion. "Yeah, I'll talk to Roy."

Damian pursed his lips, a muscle in his jaw twitching in thought. Grayson -  _his_  Grayson had remarked to Harper that he found the nickname  _gingersnap_  to be adorable, and that he was considering taking it up himself if Todd would let him. He'd brought the name up twice since then so he  _should_  remember who it belonged to.

" Now that you're here, Damian." Grayson started. " Wanna come over to my place? We'll throw in a Disney VHS or somethin'."

" No, thank you. I must return to the manor. It escaped my mind that I have an essay due for the dawn of Monday." Damian explained, taking careful steps around him without breaking eye contact. It didn't escape him that Grayson was ready for a fight without a breath of notice. Grayson  _never_  maintained that posture around him,  _ever_.

" Sure?" Grayson pressed and he sounded forceful in his insistence. There was the undertone of a threat when he spoke. " You don't have to come for the whole day. Just an hour."

" I said  _no_ , Grayson." Damian was stern this time around, hand snaking discreetly into his pocket for his phone. He needed to call Father. Damian was no fool, he knew he was in imminent danger while around the man who tried and succeeded in murdering Todd.

Grayson saw what he was doing and faster than Damian could jump out of his reach, his hand shot out like a bolt of lighting, to wrap tight around Damian's thin wrist, fingers easily fitting all the way around and then some. The boy scowled and jerked himself back but when he couldn't break the vice-like grip, tried hitting Grayson. His fist was caught and enveloped with ease.

" I hoped you wouldn't make this difficult for yourself, Damian." Kneeling to be at his height, Grayson told him in no more than a menacing whisper, and something the likes of a dark gleam sparked on his features. Alfred - in a panic - sunk his claws into Damian's coat and scampered up onto his shoulders, hissing at Grayson and swatting a paw at him, ears flat against his skull and all his needle-like teeth flashing on display, ready to defend his owner.

"  _Unhand_  me, Grayson." Damian tried ripping himself tree from the much stronger, bigger man's bruising grasp to no avail. People at the bus stop were beginning to give them sideways glances but from the angle, they couldn't see exactly what was going on, only Grayson's back and that had been proven many a time to be an A1 distraction.

Grayson released the hold he had one of Damian's arms to shove something into his face; it was a cloth, rough and sopping a liquid that reeked of chemicals. Damian's eyes widened when he realised it was chloroform. So, Grayson wasn't here to hurt him, but to _take_ him. He struggled and now _thrashed_ to get away from Grayson, but just a few inhales and he could feel that he was drastically growing weaker.  _Drowsier_. He tried keeping his breath in but it was too late for that; seconds in, Damian swayed until he collapsed into waiting arms, arms that closed tightly around him.

" There you go, kid. Nice an' quiet." He heard Grayson murmur underneath his breath, while Damian's face was pressed into the crook of his neck. He pawed at Grayson and feebly tried hitting him with a groan and last-ditch effort to escape him.

Dick grabbed the damn cat by a bunch of its scruff and shoved it into the boy's bag against its furiously extended claws, zipping it in roughly and shouldering it. The creature may come in handy. He repositioned his arms around Damian and picked him up, resting him against his shoulder. He was lucky the kid was so small and easy to carry without anyone raising a singular eyebrow.

He nonchalantly strode past the bus stop with the people who had interested eyes now locked on him when he came into their direct view.

" Poor little tyke's knackered." Dick explained with a smile to a woman who regarded him questioningly. She nodded in understanding, accepting this reply. Everyone knew Dick Grayson in Gotham City; him being seen carrying his adoptive brother wasn't such a spectacle that it would raise suspicion. Besides, a smile from him had men and women alike swooning, unable to see what was going on behind that smile.

Dick knew it was wise to research this alternate family of his before making a move. Just a quick Google search, and he learned,  _surprisingly_ , that Bruce had a biological son here, the very one he was now in possession of. It was sheer luck that he ran into little Damian out and alone in the street, but he was nothing if not an opportunist. He wondered if Bruce could find it within himself to care more about Jason than he did his own offspring. His  _flesh and blood_. If Bruce didn't have Jason currently in his grasp, then he would at least hunt him down to use as a bargaining chip. 

Dick turned into an alley and paused there. He searched Damian for anything the Bat may be able to locate him with. Lo and behold, he was carrying one of those mandatory trackers Bruce made all his clan come equipped with. Dick disabled it and took out the boy's phone from his jeans pocket, unlocking it with Damian's finger pressed against the small recognition pad. Dick scrolled through the primary contacts and saw many names he recognised,

_Barbara Gordon._

_Timothy Drake._

_Father._

_Jason Todd_  (hatred and desire alike tugged at his heart when he saw that cursed arrangement of nine letters).

_Dick Grayson._

_Alfred Pennyworth._

But there were also those names he'd never heard before and they tweaked at his curiosity.

_Stephanie Brown._

_Cassandra Cain._

_Harper Row._

_Duke Thomas._

_Kate Kane._

_Jonathan Kent._

Interesting. Not relevant, just interesting. If he had time or willingness to sacrifice it, he may need to learn who these people are.

The chloroform, potent though it was, wouldn't last long, neither would no one wondering where the lad was. Thinking he had to do something about one of those things, Dick clicked on a name in the rows of contacts and listened to the line ringing as it connected the call.

The oh-so-familiar voice answered and for seconds, Dick wanted to bask in the comfort that was hearing it after all this time.

"  _Damian, stay at the Titans Tower-_ "

" 'Sup, Bruce? Not Dami, I'm afraid, but I have got him, just in case you'd like to have him back. And yes, I can deliver, for a small fee...."

* * *

Bruce had hardly made it into the cave, and definitely not out of the car, before his phone started to vibrate. Jason's eyes drifted to the buzzing device, yet to leave the vehicle himself. Anyone with his personal number knew not to contact him during hours he would usually be patrolling at. It had to be important. When he took it and saw Damian's name blaring as the caller ID, he felt a pang of worry before he slid the green icon across the screen to answer. Damian  _never_  called him via phone. With all this going on, he needed his son to remain where he was safe, with the Titans.

" Damian, stay at the Titans Tower-"

"  _'Sup, Bruce?_ " Colour draining fast from his face, Bruce's heart stopped and  _sank_  into the depths dread when he immediately recognised  _who_  that was. "  _Not Dami, I'm afraid, but I have got him, just in case you'd like to have him back. And yes, I can deliver, for a small fee."_

"  _Dick_." Bruce hissed and from beside him, Jason all but jumped out his skin at the name, instantly guessing Bruce's cold tone didn't come from talking to the placid, happy-go-lucky Grayson of this world. 

" Where is my son? Where is  _Damian_?" Bruce demanded, as hostile as he would be with any other villain.

_" Oh, don't get so defensive. We both know you don't care when your kids are taken."_

Jason stiffened at that and Bruce felt the discomfort and unease go through him like a shockwave. 

_" But, you can have this adorable creampie back if you hand over what I want."_

Worried, Jason's eyes flitted to Bruce and he met that blue stare. They both knew  _what_  it was that Dick wanted. Or rather who.

"  _No_." Bruce said, without question or hesitation. "You aren't getting Jason or anyone else."

Dick pursed his lips _. " Well, see, that's gonna be a problem and not only for me, but for little Damian, too."_

" Hurt him and there'll be hell to pay." Bruce swore while his spare hand moved rapidly over his instrument board, to trace the phone's signal. He had to find his son before that damned psychopath hurt him.

"  _Give me Jason or_ -" Jason snatched the phone from Bruce's hand and kicked the car door open, jumping out before Bruce could take it back from him. He was too busy tracing the call to go after Jason, but, the process of pin-pointing it would take whole minutes and he was confident that Jason knew that, and would keep Dick talking long enough. But... Dick probably knew that too.

" Listen, you smug son-of-a-bitch, since we both know you're not above abusing children, you hurt that kid an' I'll fucking  _murder_  you."

_" Jason, I'm surprised to hear you care about him."_

" Particularly, I don't," Jason glanced toward Bruce and he gave him a single nod to keep going with the conversation.

" But you've fucked up enough kids and you sure as hell aren't gonna fuck up this one cause of your yandere obsession with me."

_" Don't flatter yourself, little wing. I'm not obsessed with you."_

Jason scoffed, rolling his eyes at that blatant lie. As far as he knew, it wasn't exactly yandere-level romance bullshit, but Dick's fixation with him - no matter where it may spawn from - wasn't healthy by anybody's standards.

" Then leave me the hell alone." Jason told him and that wasn't part of the act, it was very genuine.

 _" You deserve to die for everything you've done as the Arkham Knight and I'll make sure you do."_  Dick was so intense when he said that, so dark, and 100% sincere. And still, Jason got the niggling suspicion none of this ever had anything to do with the Knight. It was just an excuse Dick could use to justify himself.

" You're such a fucking hypocrite, Dick. You've killed and hurt people, same as me. You're only here to  _kill_  me."

"  _Yes, I am_." Dick said curtly, this time unlike all the others, he didn't bother trying to conceal that he too was capable of causing death and wanting to cause it.

 _" And I'll start sending this kid back to you in pieces, until you have to assemble a Damian jigsaw, so if you want to avoid ruining more lives by being you_ ," damn, that was bitter by every definition of the word. " _You'll come alone to the place I first beat the hell out you, with no weapons and no Batman. I see a cowl and pointy ears; Damian dies very slowly_."

"  _Dick_ , do you really think I need weapons and  _Bruce_  to kill you?" Voice becoming sardonic, Jason asked and he was genuinely interested, be it morbidly so.

_" I think you're too whacked to ever make the rational choice, which is why I'm counting on Bruce realising you're not worth the life of someone he actually cares about."_

Frustrated, Jason ground his teeth because he wouldn't eliminate the possibility of Bruce doing that, no matter if he swore he wouldn't.

" _Trust me, little wing, Bruce will make the right choice. Tell him I said hi."_

With that final obnoxious line, Dick cut the call and if he was smart - and he was, then he destroyed the phone in the same second. Jason huffed angrily and marched back to Bruce and the car.

" You get it?" Jason wanted to urgently know and by the hand Bruce slammed down loudly on the dashboard, he guessed  _not_.

"  _Dammit_ _!_ " Bruce cursed, something violent alight in his black eyes as he stormed out the batmobile and past Jason, his shoulder hitting him and nearly causing him to stumble. Jason wondered if it was unintentional or was Bruce furious at him being the reason the  _real_  son was in danger. Jason licked his lips nervously as he followed suit, to the bat computer.

Bruce went about rapidly in search of Damian's tracker on the very off chance that Dick hadn't had the brains to destroy or disable it.

" What do we do now, B?" Jason cautiously inquired, standing a safe few meters behind him. Bruce was too busy typing rapidly across his keyboard to answer.

" I - I won't fight you if you want to give me to Dick. I probably deserve-"

"  _No_ , Jason. For the last time,  _no_." Bruce turned back for his computer to face Jason and although Jason could tell he was angry, he sensed it wasn't directed at  _him_. There was the deepest worry among that anger too.  _Wait_  - Bruce.... Really  _cared_  when one of his own was taken?

" We'll find another way to get Damian back."

" What.  _The hell_?" Both of them turned to a wide-eyed, stunned Hood, coming down the stairs to the cave, followed by who was gradually becoming Jason's ironically favourite person, gingersnap. That archer was apparently Hood's eternal shadow for all the times he was walking behind him. 

"  _Bruce_ , why on God's earth is he not in fucking chains?" Hood came closer to Jason than Jason was comfortable with, as if sizing him up for a fight. News flash for his dumb ass, they were the exact same height.

Sensing the impending storm, Bruce stepped in with, " Jason, get away from him, other-Jason,  _don't_ -"

Jason shoved Hood back from him to a distance he preferred, hard enough to cause him to stumble but unfortunately,  _not_  fall. Roy caught the idiot.

" You really wanna start a fight  _now_ , you stupid bitch?" Furious at his poor timing, Jason was going to punch his counterpart's facial bones to dust when gingersnap stepped between them, his tattooed arms apart to either protect his bae or to keep him on the other side of the barrier.

" Jason,  _no_." Stern, Roy said, to Jason's surprise, over his shoulder to _Hood_. "Remember what you promised? You said you weren't going to hurt AK.  _Enough_  of this already."

Jason could tell Roy was truly fed up with the two of them fighting every chance they got, and irritation was definitely a new side to him. Well, Jason was happy to learn Roy possessed more than the two-dimensional halfwit emotions he prioritised. 

" Red," Bruce cut in and Hood's ears pricked as if he was a puppy dog. He suddenly didn't care about fighting Jason anymore. It really was absolutely adorable now obedient to his bat daddy he could be.

" The Dick who stabbed you has Damian." He grimly informed and the impact of that was clear on Hood's face at once. All pallor left his tan skin and his blood ran cold. He was.... Scared? Because of Dick or what Dick could do to Damian? The latter, Jason suspected. He knew first hand what Dick could do. By now, they all did.

" We need to get him back now." Hood proclaimed, like it hadn't already been stated numerous times.

" We will," Bruce assured him, "but we need to work together.  _All_  of us." His heavy eyes went from one Jason to the other and it was clear what he wanted. For everything he'd done, Jason wasn't going to let Dick carry on being alive or screw up this kid like he himself was screwed up by that hypocrite in the cowl. That fucking prick wasn't  _allowed_  to get away with this anymore and Jason _was_ going to kill him. He already knew he had gingersnap's support and help if he needed it.

" He's dragged another kid into this fucking game of his." Jason said, to  _Hood_ , and their eyes met like no one else was in the room. For once, they didn't care to fight the other when both were pissed, be it for differing reasons. Hood for his little brother, Jason for aforementioned matters.

Hood growled, perhaps recalling the ease with which Dick ran him through and now he had the goddamn audacity to capture Damian and make demands like he was the one running the show. Hood's fingers glided above his abdomen, above where Jason thinks the scars were, and settled over them. 

" That bitch is going  _down_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a fabulous Saturnalia, my sweet-faces. Please accept this chapter as my gift to ya'll.


	17. He Never Misses...

Jason's breath hitched sharply when Dick's rough boots landed heavily on either side of his arms, soles and the weight laying waste to his biceps, though padded by kevlar. His chest was rising and falling faster than he could find an excuse for, drawing in and building pressure behind his eyes when Dick lowered himself, trailing a batarang over the length of his face. He pressed in a bit, faultlessly sharp blade singing through the first wafer-thin layer of skin, a thread-like redness following suit.

" Don't close your eyes, Jason." Dick told him when Jason winced out of instinct. " The eyes are the centrepiece of your pretty face."

" Get _off_ me, Grayson." Jason spat up at him, his helplessness be damned. Fuck the plan and fuck Bruce's certainty everything would go according to it, because it wasn't supposed to include him on his back with Dick Grayson piled atop him. _How_ did he even get here?

  

~ THREE HOURS EARLIER ~

  
" We need to know the whole truth about you and Dick. Don't leave _anything_ out." Bruce said and all eyes - Jason's included - landed on the Knight. He seemed to be somewhat startled by everyone's attention suddenly touching down so heavily on him, but he recovered from it fast and plunged into sheer hesitation. Jason found it curious how straddled his tongue was when Bruce wanted to know _everything_. He had to see the question coming, right? It was as obvious as the freckles on Roy's face.

" _Uh_..." the Knight 's gaze flickered awkwardly to the floor, where it remained for seconds before reluctantly returning to them. Aware of himself, Jason knew it was bad, but his double's discomfort was pleasing to him. Served the jerk right.

" I - I already told you, B." The Knight tried saving himself the story, glancing to Bruce as if _he_ was going to rescue him.

" _Everything_." Bruce was stern with him, despite how he saw the unwillingness the Knight harboured. " It might mean the difference between the outcome of today. I wouldn't be asking you if it wouldn't help us bring Dick down."

That seemed to motive Jason's double to some degree; he swallowed against the horrible deep purple collar of bruises and parted his lips a fraction, silent for a heartbeat before he could make words come out.

" Dick..." He began. " I've only seen him a couple times since I was Robin.. Only one incident is significant at all, I think... It happened right before I got swooped up into this world. I was talking with Dick at the manor, he was pissed and I'm not sure why.... He was tellin' me that I was a waste of the Robin suit and the name and the training and all that usual shit."

Relating there, Jason nodded to himself at that. Been there, heard that, a thousand and ten times.

" Then he told me it's his job to lock up the rogues gallery -myself included- and throw away the key, but, he was _willing to make an exception_." The Knight raised the pitch of his voice there, perfectly taking on a mock Dick Grayson voice, his silvery undertones and Romani accent on point.

" And what was that _exception_? Did he want you to suck him off with that whore gob?" Jason quirked a brow, unable even if he'd tried, to hide his sarcasm or the smirk that teetered on his lips, and Roy nudged him in the ribs with his elbow for that.

" Trust me, bitch," the Knight said, humouring Jason with a sardonic grin that conflicted the mood. "We got the exact same mouth. Just ask gingersnap."

" The _fuck_ you just say?" Glaring, Jason pushed away from Roy's side, only he was caught sharply by the shoulder and jerkily retracted the step he'd managed to take.

" Jaybirds, _stoppit_ ," Stern like Jason had never seen him, Roy ordered them, hand falling off Jason while he did. "You're both pretty, both _incredibly, exceptionally_ bangable, but this. Is. _Important_. Think about Damian, why don't you?"

Oh yeah... _Fuck_. With how much he wanted to break his doppelganger's _considerably_ less attractive face, Jason almost forgot that treacherous bastard Dick had Damian, and that they needed to rescue the precious cinnabon before time ran out. And all because of the Arkham Knight.

"Jay," Bruce nodded toward the Knight, falsely alerting Jason's attention when he heard his name. He scowled to himself.

"Continue. You were speaking with Dick, _then_....?"

"Yeah," the Knight twitched awkwardly with his hands, twisting his fingers back into painful contortions. His stalling was beyond annoying.

"Spit it out, crazy." Jason told him, desperate to speed this along, then to have the Knight's intense stare fix on him, filled with feverish yet silent loathing toward him.

" Okay, slut, we _kissed_. Fucking _made. Out_. Me and our dear big brother, for a whole goddamn _minute_." The Knight snapped, as if to assassinate Jason with the blunt force of his honesty. Jason felt his eyes grow wide, far past the proportions his face could contain and already, he tasted salt beneath his tongue, brewing and growing stronger.

" You're. Fucking _joking_ , right?" Laughing in nervous abashment, Jason half pleaded, half believed. He sensed Roy stiffen and Bruce become visibly uncomfortable at such a thought as would-be brothers lip-locking. Bruce _uncomfortable_? There's a previously untouched area.

" Unlike you in a fight, Hood, this isn't a joke."

Jason let him have that one, his teeth sunken into his lower lip was all he could do not to throw up and a green tint to rival the Grinch became the new primary colour of his face.

" Oh my _fucking_ _god_." Jason groaned against the balled fist he clamped firmly to his mouth, trying his god-forsaken-hardest not to gag when he involuntarily _pictured_ it. _Don't imagine it. Don't imagine it. Don't imagine you kissing Dick._ And he was fucking seeing it! Bitter bile was making its way up his throat when the mental image came.

" You're fuckin' _sick_ , y'know that?" Jason spat at the Knight, rather viciously but when considering he'd fucking made out with _their_ _brother_ , he was being way too nice, in his own opinion. His identical seemed stunned momentarily when Jason said that, as if he'd expected no backlash from that disgusting confession. Were they supposed to _embrace_ the incest?

" You think I _wanted_ that?" The Knight was irritated, features reverted that way. At his sides, his hands opened and closed at synchronised timing, knuckles crunching and he was _clearly_ wound up. Jason felt only self-righteous disgust because the idiot shoulda thought of this reaction before he-

"You're already completely nuts - _of course_ a fucked-up bitch like _you'd_ wanna screw Dick!" Jason exclaimed before he could contain himself, and felt the immediate need to dissociate himself from his doppelganger on account of wanting nothing to do with _that_. The Knight couldn't get his rebuttal out before Roy's elbow met Jason's ribs again, harder this time, enough to jolt him and he snapped his eyes hard onto his partner with a silent _what the hell?_

" Shut. Up, _Jay_." Roy told him and Jason didn't like how defensive of the other he was. " Leave AK alone and let him speak." What? _Again_ he was defending the impostor? Jason took a forceful calming breath and repeated the mantra, think about Damian. Think about Damian. Think about Damian and _don't_ get pissed. He needs to come first right now.

Bruce's hand found the Knight's shoulder. " We know you didn't want it, Jason." He said, _sympathetically_? He actually possessed that emotion? Jason recognised that was a tug of jealousy he felt. Jealous of himself? There's a new low.

"But you need to tell us what happened without sparing anything." Bruce continued, noticeably draining the will to exist from the Knight when he asked,

"Did it go any _further_ than the kiss?"

Jason fucking hoped _not_! The idea alone brought on another bout of sickliness.

" No." The Knight relieved them all by saying. " I - I don't _like_ sex." He added quickly, blinked those pretty blue peepers rapidly as they surveyed the ground, as if the topic of intercourse was a touchy one for him. Jason wouldn't be surprised if back in the day, it was Bruce's sex-ed classes that had left him traumatised.

Pausing and awkward speech regardless, Jason's twin kept trying for an intelligent sentence, " I wouldn't have let Dick.... I mean, I don't think he _wanted_ to."

"Why do you say that?" Bruce inquired and Jason could not believe he wanted any details on this twisted love-hate fantasy Dick seemed to have. Then again, he wouldn't be asking if a certain little boy's life didn't depend on it.

" He hit me outta nowhere. He didn't want me near him, so I punched him back and came here, I guess?"

" And that's it?"

" That's is." The Knight confirmed with a dip of his head yes, and Jason felt as if though he could faint from relief that there weren't any orgies they should know about. This whole experience taught Jason stomach-churning was a real thing.

" _Okayyy_ then," Roy exhaled his own subtle repulsion and lack of comfort forcefully, running his fingers back through his tangled waves of ember hair. " So Dick... wants AK-Jay dead 'cause... he _fancies_ him? Yandere style?"

"Seems to be the case." Bruce was grim, turning back to the computer table and with it, the main monitor. He opened a close-up satellite image of their city, circling off several locations seemingly at random, except a native of Gotham or anyone who was versed in geography would recognise those were power plants he was crossing out. Roy and both Jasons frowned their confusion, and Bruce explained without the need for raising question,

" I ran a search, and these are each locations facial recognition showed Dick being at, before Damian's capture. Either he's idly stopping by every local power plant, or there's more to this plan of his."

" B," Jason spoke up, "If he damages those plants, power across the city will be lost and I don't need to tell you, that's a catastrophe. I mean, hospitals, prisons, _Arkham_ , no power is pretty damming, even if half those aforementioned spots have backup generators."

" I know." Bruce grunted, initiating a group communication link between them and every member of the Bat-clan. Kate, Cass, Steph, Tim, Dick, Harper, etcetera. He alerted them with what was happening - some actually _believed_ it on the first time - explaining everything in the tightest knit summary he could.

 _" WHAT?! That whacko has Damian?!"_ Dick - the one they knew, _exploded_ through the speakers with his shrill panic and fury-stricken voice, drowning out anything anyone else may have had to say concerning the matter.

" _Richard_ ," Bruce said, calm that defied the situation, " I need you to-"

_" Say no more, Bruce! I'm gonna fucking murder that-"_

" No, Dick. _Listen_." Bruce's jaw grit. "I'm sending each of you individual coordinates to locations your doppelganger was spotted at. Scour them for anything like explosives."

You had to admit, even Jason did, this was the perfect distraction for the rest of the family. Dick had thought this through, at least. When he quickly realised he was no match for the dynamite that was the power of the Bat and his allies, he needed to provide entertainment for everyone, didn't he? He did, if he wanted that one-on-one with the Knight.

Dick protested, he put up an argument as to why _he_ should be the one who rescued Damian, but ultimately, he did what no one doubted he would, and sucked up to the plan. _They_ would check out those locations. Bruce, Roy, Jason and the Knight would handle the Damian situation.

" And while the rest of the cavalry are up to that, what's our mission, _Dad_?" Jason asked, laying heavy weight on that last word, sending an intense glance to his counterpart so as to remind him whose Batman Bruce was. He _wasn't_ being possessive, just cautious. The Knight met his gaze for only seconds, arms folded as if to hug himself, before turning back to Bruce.

"We-" Bruce started, but was paused on account of Damian's tracking device popping up on screen with a gentle _ping_. Bludhaven. The device showed he was in Bludhaven, tens of miles away from where Dick wanted the Knight to be. Immediately becoming clear, it was no wonder as to what the madman was doing. Dividing them more, making sure Bruce would be too busy saving his son to show up and disrupt Dick.

" It could be a decoy," Jason said at once, "And there's no guarantee Damian is there-"

"-But we aren't taking that risk." The Knight finished, getting himself further up on Jason's nerves. Deliberately, he was trying to get into Bruce's good books. " B, me an' ginger an' the bitch can handle Dick, if you get the brat."

Bruce - he was regarding Jason's alternate with something akin to... approval? _The hell_? And then he nodded, once, stiffly, anxious concerning his youngest son. When he spoke, he was apprehensive and reluctant to dispatch them alone, but he was no stranger to what was necessary. Especially now.

" I'll go to Bludhaven, find Damian, you three, here's what you do...."

* * *

 

Dick pulled the ropes around the boy's wrists, jerking them, making the knots too tight for someone of Damian's measly strength to break out of. Still, Damian wrenched his limbs violently, bruisingly, then when that proved useless, he snapped a leer of pure hatred up at Dick, the likes of which he'd never seen on such a young child's features. It looked out of place, but so Bruce-like. Dick could easily see the resemblance between father and son.

" Father will-" Damian started threatening him for the umpteenth consecutive time, but Dick shut him up with a solid hand clamped hard over his mouth, covering the lower half of his face. Dick took a deep, controlling breath over Damian's muffled protesting, attempting to loosen those nerves the brat's constant misbehaviour was twisting into a bunch. Children were so goddamn annoying. He seldom believed he'd ever been one.

" Father's not gonna do shit, Damian."

Green eyes shifted loathing of varying intensities at him. Were it not for his kevlar gloves, he'd be missing a few fingers by the sharpness of Damian's teeth.

"Except maybe hand Jason over to me." Dick continued, musing more this time.

Here in the city that used to be his home, in this abandoned apartment block, Bruce would find Damian all in good time, once he activated the confiscated tracker, that is, and in the time it took for him to arrive, Dick would be well on his way to his meet spot with Jason. Oh, to _finally_ end this. Look into those beautiful blue eyes and snuff out the lights. Feel the last beats of his heart. And tear the final sounds between his teeth. And with all this thinking about Jason, Dick hardly felt the thoughts brew before he was imagining bruising those lips and seeing them wrapped around his cock. _Sooo_ fucking _delicious_... He almost lost himself in the sinful imagining when Damian threw his weight forth with all the force he could muster, not quite hitting Dick when he had the reflexes to jump back in time, but he did manage to rock so far forward that he nearly tipped the chair he was bound to. It took Dick catching him to keep him from splitting his face wide on the ground.

" Father will _kill_ you!" Damian swore, struggling against the hands on him. Dick thrust him up against the wall and held him there by the shoulders, uncaring of the hollow thud that went through the kid's body or the gasp of pain he tried stifling.

" Shut up already, _Damian_!" Dick yelled at him, shaking him roughly because the boy was fucking _stupid_. Couldn't the brat just shut the fuck up? _Jesus_ , he was as bad as Jason with his mouthiness.

"Father shall not play along to your madness." Damian persisted, as if never hearing his orders. _So much like Jason._ There was a dribble of blood staining the corner of his lip. Dick couldn't remember, but did he hit the kid?

"He will no sooner hand you Todd than he will take a life."

Dick took himself back to stare at the boy through his narrowed eyes, narrowed because Damian was... Not what he'd expected. His confidence in Bruce defied the fact that he's still not been rescued. Had.... Had Jason been like that once? If so, how long did he hold onto that pitiful notion? In the times Dick had run into Joker after Jason's capture, the clown had never been secretive about what he did, and with that knowledge, Dick estimated Jason's confidence in the Bat probably let up when Joker raped him the fortieth or so time. In truth, Dick didn't feel bad about that at all. Served Jason right for purposefully destroying his life _(didn't that prove the unwanted allure was something wrong with Jason?_ ).

"You better hope he comes through, Dami," Dick said, " 'Cause if he doesn't, half of Gotham blows up."

Damian scowled but couldn't hide, that he was confused. " _What_?"

Dick couldn't help the tug of satisfaction that came with knowing something the other didn't. He liked having all the strings in his hands, any string he pulled forcing the hand of someone else to do his bidding. Which is why he _knew_ Bruce would make the smart choice here.

"I took the liberty of rigging every power plant in that chunk of hell to blow. The family will be too busy dealing with that to come up with a counter plan." Dick grinned. "They follow my guidelines, or everyone will be worse for it."

Ever glaring, Damian shook his head slowly, from side to side, disbelieving.

"You are truly insane, Grayson, if you believe Father can be manipulated. Especially by Batman's one brain-celled imperfect impostor. Especially by _you_."

Gaze attenuating on the boy's small bound frame, Dick thought about how easy it would be to _hurt_ that kid. _Severely_ hurt him. His bones were thin and, Dick would bet, brittle at his tender age, effortless to snap. What was he - _nine_? _Ten?_ He didn't have all his fucking milk teeth out and was talking like the world was his bitch. Overconfident. Like Jason once was. _Hmm_...

" You're pretty sure Father will win, aren't you?" Dick asked him, while picking up the backpack that fucking feline was still in, yowling for freedom. He sensed Damian's eyes tracking his movements toward his beloved pet, cute pink tongue darting in nervousness over his lip.

" No idiocy spewed from your mouth shall waver me." Damian bit, despite how the involvement of the cat worried him more than his own predicament. Robin was no stranger to being captured, so Dick wasn't really surprised.

"Then I'll stop wasting words on you, Damian." He tore a mouldy curtain from over the boarded window, an explosion of dust filling the room with the dull cascade of streetlights inching through the partings in the plank barrier. With the folded length of fabric and cat in hand, he approached Damian, who try as he might, couldn't find a way to hide the questions.

"But I will teach you to respect your elders." Dick said, unzipping the bag and dropping the cat into Damian's lap. Its fur stood on end and all its teeth were on show, eyes wide and spine curved, and still the presence of its owner soothed it somewhat. _Whelp_ , that wouldn't be long-lasting.

"Don't hurt him!" Damian ordered him when Dick reached down, to Damian's assumption, to touch his precious pet, only it was to swathe the curtain around him and tie it behind his back, firm, pulling and trapping the animal to his middle.

" What are you doing?" Hissing, the kid demanded, vicious as any Al Ghul, vicious enough to make his grandfather proud. Dick took a step back when he restrained the two, inseparable by their own means.

"I have to go now, Dami, before Father gets here, so I don't have time to discipline you myself. But," he gestured to Damian's cat, "I'm sure Alfred won't mind." With the back of his hand, he whacked the protruding curved shape that was the feline against Damian, _thwap._ Instantly _,_ Alfred reacted in panic to the hit, squirms with extended claws hooking into the boy's soft skin, unprotected by his mere hoodie. Damian gasped when sharp pinpricks inserted themselves into him, shutting his eyes tight and biting down on his already bruised lip to keep from making any sound. This was nowhere near lethal but it burned like hell.

" A - _Alfred_ ," the boy stammered past the furious scratching, then said something in Arabic to his pet, something that was as soothing as his body - screaming out in pain - could muster. The cat's writhing ceased somewhat, to which Dick hit it again, _harder_ , reigniting the process. Damian actually screamed this time, when faultless wicked hooks sliced through the first and second layers of skin. Screamed but forced himself to remain as still as possible, when frantic movement from him would scare his pet more.

" For future notice, don't disobey your elders, Damian," Dick gave him the fleeting comment over his shoulder, on his way out.

" It'll get you killed one day."

* * *

 

"Took ya longer to get here than I thought. I'm starting to wonder if you actually _wanted_ me or not?" Jason noticed a flicker of movement from the corner of his eye and said, no longer the sole person here. He knew Roy and the Knight weren't far, far enough not to be seen but not out of reach to help him if he so needed, but it hardly eased his dragged taut nerves. Idly, he ran his fingers over the graze plaster covering the right side of his face, reminding himself to be the Arkham Knight and not Red Hood.

" Had to run a perimeter check, just in case B decided to ignore my terms." Dick's voice came from somewhere in the dark, set apart from Jason's line of sight. He didn't turn in circles trying to find the other, but stayed where he stood in the centre of the roof. He wasn't playing this game of flashlight tag with Dick. Through his head, he kept asking himself what his doppelganger would do and say? How does the Arkham Knight handle situations like this? _Talk to yourself and act crazy...._

"Well, don't worry about that," Jason said, irritated when his eyes couldn't find Dick, but he didn't let it become audible or creep its way into his voice. "You and I have always known _daddy_ doesn't give a shit about me. He's not coming."

" Just you and me, then?" Dick sounded closer when he said that.

" Exactly like you always wanted."

" Wrong again, Jason." Again, nearer, meters at least.

Jason feigned his cockiest grin when Dick finally stopped playing and stepped out of the shadows, into the cool cascade of moonlight, giving a full and clear view of himself. Blue crest in place of black, domino mask in favour of the cowl, he came here as _Nightwing_ , and not Batman. _Intriguing_....

" Oh, stop pretending, big bro. I know you're hot for me. I mean, who could blame you? I'm fucking delicious."

" Joker fucked with your head bad, didn't he?" Dick asked, dark and Jason tried not to compare his demeanour to his own brother's. How could the same person be so truly polar?

"You're delusional."

Jason rolled his eyes, green disguised by blue lenses, rolled them hard but didn't respond to that. Dick wasn't wrong about the Knight there.

"Now, exactly what did you want from me, _Richard_?" Jason inquired as calmly as he possibly could, when knowing everything he did about this man caused disgust and all varieties of emotions to twists the scars he left. The phantom pain burned the closer Dick got, but Jason wasn't going to let him get _too_ close.

"I want to kill you, Jason." Dick coolly replied, unlike Jason, no waver of feeling vibrating through his words. His eyes were narrowed like they'd been that night at the asylum.

_It's different this time. Roy's not going to let him hurt you. He's right there if you need him._

" But _first_ , you owe me something." That barely left his vocal cords when in greased lightning style motion, Dick's hand surged around a clump of Jason's hair and dragged him a step forward, muffling the yelp of pain against his mouth, capturing Jason in twisted one-sided passion. Another set of fingers wrapped firmly around Jason's wrist, gone rigid from mortification. Dick _bit_ him, pulling back his lip but not without bloody marks left behind, points of his teeth tearing through the thin flesh. Dick _wanted_ him to hurt as much as he yearned for this sick fantasy of his to be real. He kissed Jason harshly, licked into his bruised mouth, while Jason stayed frozen in horror, in his _brother's_ grasp.

Ill-prepared for the speed Dick could move at, Jason's heart must've stopped there and when it did reignite and pounded into his ribs, Jason kneed and kicked Dick away from him in a desperate mess of movements. He couldn't have done it any sooner or had the unwanted pressure on his lips removed when bile sat thick and bubbling underneath his tongue. Dick's saliva was like acid where it had touched him.

" The fuck is wrong with _you_?!" Jason screamed at him, forgetting character for a moment there. His shock remoulded into an accusatory glare. "I'm your fucking _brother_!"

Dick coughed away the blow, that wasn't as painful as he deserved. He wiped something away from his mouth with the back of his gloved hand, maybe the remnants of taste he drained from Jason.

" That's what your counterpart thought," Dick muttered, words dying on the brink of a growl. "Before I killed him." Once more, Jason just barely registered what he said when Dick lunged, raised fist striking him down like a lost game of Jenga. Jason's breath hitched sharply when Dick's rough boots landed heavily on either side of his arms, soles and the weight laying waste to his biceps, though padded by kevlar. His chest was rising and falling faster than he could find an excuse for, drawing in and building pressure behind his eyes when Dick lowered himself, trailing a batarang over the length of his face. He pressed in a bit, faultlessly sharp blade singing through the first wafer-thin layer of skin, a thread-like redness following suit.

" Don't close your eyes, Jason." Dick told him when Jason winced. " The eyes are the centrepiece of your pretty face."

" Get _off_ me, Grayson." Jason spat up at him, his helplessness be damned. His initial dread then shock passed, becoming violently bubbling _anger_.

The point of the batarang's blade found his sternum, right between his collarbones, and headed down three inches. Jason drew a hissing breath.

"You stole something from me, Jason. I didn't let you but you still did." Dick said, breathily, on the brink of long-lasting anticipation. Jason yanked in vain at his restrained limbs and cursed Roy for taking his sweet time.

"Now I steal something of _yours_." Both hands wrapped around the batarang, directly above Jason's heart, Dick drove it down.

* * *

 

The crossbow's leather bindings creaked when Roy's grip tightened around it, chipping and grinding his teeth together when a couple roofs away, the scope of his weapon gave him a front-row seat to Dick grabbing _his_ partner and _kissing_ him. Roy was _sick_ and _disgusted_ and _angry_. He wanted to send an arrow zipping through Dick, that twisted, treacherous bastard, from the moment he saw him, and this made resisting twenty fold as difficult.

He was _hurting_ Jason, Roy could tell.

AK glanced at him, noting how this weighed down on him, how his finger trembled on the trigger. ( _Why the crossbow, gingersnap?_ ) But if he shot now, from this distance, he risked hitting Jason. ( _It's more practical for stealth and long distance observation_ ). And he was not taking that chance, no matter his confidence in his own marksmanship.

" You wanna go?" AK asked, hesitant to make a move on his own. When they'd eventually gotten it through his head that he couldn't be the one to face down to Dick, when Dick knew all his weak points, like his shoulder for example, he still harboured displeasure about it. He didn't want to accept any favours from Jason and no one could convince him this wasn't that (Bruce didn't voice it, but he didn't trust AK not to get killed on account of being distracted by his delusions. Dick would seize the opportunity if it presented).

" _No_ ," Roy told him, out the corner of his mouth. "We wait another few minutes." They'd waited for Jason to sufficiently lure Dick out of his hiding place, now he just needed a clear shot... Bruce had ordered him to use tranq arrows or aim for non-lethal areas if it came to the real heat, but Roy'd be lying if he said he'd not had his hawk's eye on Dick's jugular since he set up his bow. He hadn't forgotten those new ragged scars his fingers grazed over whenever looping his arm around Jason. How was he to blame, if the wind changed direction on a hair's breadth and his arrow embedded itself in Dick's skull? Bruce couldn't blame him for where the wind chose to blow...

It wasn't supposed to take a turn this _fast_. The moment Dick raised his fist to Jason, struck him down, the thin wire of restraint in Roy snapped and when he still didn't have that clear aim, he shot a line and zipped across the gap between this rooftop and the next, and then he ran. AK was on his heels, he could hear him above the wind and the race of his heart. In the distance, Dick had a batarang raised above Jason, and he _pushed_ it down. _Into_ Jason's _chest_. Roy's panic was justified, despite that he knew his partner was wearing kevlar no ordinary blade could pierce - certainly not a _batarang_. When in seconds they were close enough, Roy notched an arrow and shot the weapon clean out Dick's hand, and before it could hit the ground, threw the bastard off his partner with the crossbow's solid, _motivational_ foregrip having an encounter with Dick's face. AK kicked Dick even further than Roy's blow cast him, relishing the whack of his boot on flesh and the jolt that reverberate through the both of them. Dick stumbled ungracefully back onto his feet and with eyes narrowed like a cornered animal, took some well-thougth out steps back.

Roy hooked his arms underneath Jason's and hoisted him off the ground Dick sought to kill him against. Still in his grasp, he turned Jason and kissed him _deep_ , so that he was sure Dick didn't blink to miss a beat of it.

" _He_ -" Roy gestured with a rigidly pointed out finger to Jason once they broke apart, "Is _mine_. Got that, _Dick_?"

Dick's eyes snapped to each of their faces in turn, backed into a literal corner, gears in his head turning to roll forth the answer to his obvious question; why was there _two_ Jasons? Hadn't he _killed_ the other?

"You're such a fucking disease, little wing." Dick said, to both AK and Jason. "You just _keep_ coming back." He laughed in crazed disbelief.

"Says the person who's on my back 24/7 like the fucking plague." AK spat and trembled from the effort it took to withhold the urge to kill his _brother_ , then and there. While not caring if he maintained his restraint or not, Roy quickly checked Jason for injuries. The knife hadn't gotten past his vest, as predicted, and aside from a bruise over his eye, he looked fine.

"You okay, babe?" Roy asked, despite the conclusion of his analysis, unclipping Jason's helmet from his quiver and handing it over to him.

"Will be once we off this bitch." Jason replied gruffly, plucking the blue lenses from over his irises the moment he could and blinking back the irritation they caused. Next, he shoved the hood over his head with both hands. _Click_ , hiss, the air catch locked and fastened it into place. And so the Knight became the Hood.

"Off him? _Done_." Roy loaded an arrow and trained it to Dick, about to pull back on the trigger without a hesitant thought or a cover-up plan when,

"I wanna kill him." AK growled, venomous, low with his hands opening and closing at his sides, balling and unballing.

* * *

 

Bruce knows he should have slipped in quiet as the night he was named for, arrived at the abandoned apartment block Damian's tracking device lead him to without making a sound. It was the smart way to approach, lest Dick had someone guarding his son, he wouldn't want to alert them of his presence. But no, he couldn't. Tiny demons with big teeth were gnawing at him from the inside out, each bite leaving behind a void of anxiousness and dread. Dick was no saner than the Joker. Damian was no safer than Jason had been.

The door burst open with the heart-stopping sudden splintering of old decayed wood, but the explosion of noise fell onto a deaf crowd, swallowed up by the silence in seconds.

"Damian?" Bruce called ahead, gaze darting over the place. It was dark, a decrepit apartment that hadn't seen use for years, grey from mould and damp. Even while breathing the dampness and poor quality of the air struck him.

" _Damian_?" He tried again, louder to be heard over his heavy steps, entering.

" F - _Father_..." His ears pricked when he heard the quiet teary mewl from somewhere farther in. He hurried to find it, heart wedged painfully in his throat, keeping captive regular steady breaths.

"Hang on, son, I'm coming." Bruce assured him, following the sniffling and tiny panting to the living room. He had a mini cardiac arrest when he found Damian, slumped over, bound to a chair with his entire front covered in speckles of blood. A cloth or sheet was wrapped around an unnatural mound over his middle.

" _Damian_ ," Urgent, Bruce knelt beside him and lifted his face, meeting his big green eyes, welling with tears. Damian _never_ cried. Initial fear came from, had the fucker Dick hurt him? _Stabbed_ him like he had Jason? It had to be bad if he was whimpering over it.

"What did he do, son?" Bruce asked, quick to begin untying him, arms encircling his tiny body to reach the knots behind his back.

" F - _father_ ," Damian sniffed and swallowed, " A - Alfred, he s - stopped moving. I think - has he _suffocated_?" Bruce hardly heard him sound so scared, before ripping back the crimson speckled cloth, and Damian's cat leapt out, running across the floor to locations unknown, its fur mattered red. That explained the bump.

" No, Alfred - come back!" Damian pleaded, jerking forward and near tipping himself, but he fell straight into Bruce's arms, looking over his shoulder in dismay, in the direction the animal disappeared.

" Damian, it's alright, we'll find him later." Bruce comforted him, well aware of how attached his son was to his pet, but there was a certain order his priorities came in, and running after it was nowhere near first. He straightened and held Damian at arm's length, deep red slashes he dreaded to find missing, instead tens of cuts, long and small, crisscrossed his belly and chest, visible through the tattered fabric of his hoodie. Some were shallow and some deeper, but none were - thank god - _fatal_. Surface wounds often bled a lot, and therefore could easily mislead.

" Are you alright?" Bruce asked him, feeling his heart rate slow down from the rapid pound, when he found his son, unharmed for the most part and _alive_. Lord knew, anything but would have been more than even _Batman_ could handle.

"Y - yes, Father," Damian dipped his head quickly, dismissively, his thoughts clearly still on Alfred the cat. He raised a shaky hand after him. "We need to help Alfred. He - he must be scared - G - Grayson _hurt_ him."

His misplaced concerns were a good sign to Bruce, awful as it sounded. It clarified that Damian had no major injuries that kept him from being distracted.

" Son, we'll find the cat later." They would, Damian would make sure they did, but in the meantime, Bruce drew his littlest son into his arms and a hug that was beyond the point of human relief. Damian resisted with a small grunt and going stiff, unaware that while Batman could not be scared, that sure as hell wasn't the case for his and his brothers' father. Bruce exhaled quietly, finally able to release the breath he'd been holding.

And now, to find the remainder of his boys and _end_ this.

* * *

 

They, _all four of them_ , had fought plenty, kicked and punched and backflipped and connected countless hits before Dick's hand moved in a blur to snatch something off his belt; a _grenade_. Before anyone could even think to disarm him, he'd plucked the pin between his teeth and the explosive was hurtling through the air in their direction. The shock wave was bone-rattling, careering into them as if it was a freight train that refused Jason the chance to strengthen his footing, and he along with gingersnap and Hood were thrown back like the pins in a bowling game.

 _Crash_ , he hit the ground once. _Crash_ , and again. He expected a third shock of pain to reverberate through him, only a blast of rushing wind took his breath away and heartstoppingly, he realised he'd been sent over the edge of the roof and there were ten storeys between him and the ground.

 _Fuck, this is gonna hurt,_ was the singular thought that went through his head, but a sudden jolt and immense pressure around the wrist of his _right_ arm stopped his fall. A strangled cry choked up his throat, his shoulder was set alight, into a roaring blaze of electric by the sudden strain of his entire bodyweight relying on it. Well, he wasn't wrong about the hurting part.

From above him, he heard gingersnap grunt under the incredulous strain he himself must be under, because he was holding onto not only Jason, but also Hood, who'd fallen with him. Neither one of them was exactly _light_ , but put together, Jason didn't have to calculate to know they amounted to somewhere over 400 pounds. Strong as Roy was, Jason felt the tremors going through his muscles, transferring into himself. Hood, closest to the explosion, was dazed - his helmet was cracked, Jason could see his cheek, his eye, tufts of his hair, through the break, and Hood was not noticing when Roy tried to pull them both back onto the roof, taking a shaky step back, or trying to at least; he stumbled forth and nearly sent them all falling to their deaths, landing heavily on his knees.

" _Dammit_ , gingersnap - stop pulling!" Jason ordered him, teeth set over the spiking level of pain his arm was experiencing. It felt like the fucking thing could be torn clean off.

" Wh - what do _you_ suggest?" Eyes shut and teeth grinding together against gravity working as his enemy, Roy breathily grunted, slipping another few inches. Jason heard something behind the archer, over both their ragged breaths; steps. _Tap-tap-tap._ That's the very stride he'd know anywhere.

" _Roy_...." Dick called with a deranged, taunting sing-song smile in his voice and the sound of a batarang swishing free from his belt was heard. Jason's blood froze the same as he felt Roy's.

" Remember when Jason joined the Titans?" _Tap-tap-tap._ " An' I told you to stay away from him?" _Closer_. The steps were so much closer. They couldn't be more than meters away.

"You're _not_ listening...."

Roy's fingers were beginning to slip and something that terrified Jason for Roy's sake, he could see Dick's silhouette looming like a god of death over his shoulder. His arm was raised, the razor-sharp batarang lusting for Roy's blood, ready to sink into him and take a bite.

_Think fast._

" Brace yourself, ginger-" Jason ordered him and before Roy could ask _why_ , he kicked out at the wall with both feet, as hard as he fucking _could_ , propelling himself up in an arched back flip, where he let go of Roy just in time to connect Dick's face with his boots. _Whack_. The sound and the solid thud was delicious, like the sort he could never get his fill of. Before Dick could gather his bastard self off the floor, and ginger pulled Hood up, Jason closed the distance between himself and _the Bat,_ to deliver a second, bone-shattering kick to his middle.

" Don't fuck with your youngers, Dick." Colder than carbonite, Jason hissed, without his consent thinking back on fifteen-year-old him, on the floor at _Nightwing's_ mercy. He remembered how he'd tried standing up for himself, only to be crushed into the ground by the _then_ bigger man. It had been as if the weight of the world itself was squeezing contents of his lungs out when Dick stood over him, _on_ him. Recollections and grudges as fresh as if they were yesterday, Jason slammed his foot onto Dick's back with a satisfying grunt of pain and _pressed_ , grinding the rough soles of his boots into him nice and proper. It was... invigorating to hurt him. To at last show him _how it feels_.

" It's gonna get you killed."

" I... beg t - to differ, _Jason_...." Dick snarled, limbs shaking violently when he labourously pushed against Jason's weight on him, struggling but inch-by-inch, succeeding to straighten himself out.

" Oh, you _do_?" Jason inquired and felt his eyes darken several shades, teeth bared in their little power struggle. He could kill Dick right now, lodge a knife into the base of his skull for that gush of deep red, but... Jason wanted him to fucking _hurt_.

"So f - fucking _dumb_..." Dick said. " _N'wonder_ Joker _captured_ and _fucked_ you.."

And then, Dick rolled sharply out from under Jason, causing him to stumble with his footing so abruptly shifted and Dick leapt at him, arms closing fast around his middle, he threw them _both_ off the building, hurtling down into the neighbouring construction yard faster than Jason could react. The sharp rush of wind _howled_.

" _Jay_ -!" Gingersnap exclaiming his name in a panic went unregistered while, even in freefall, he wrestled to get Dick's possessive hands off him. He broke the relentless grip but sadly for him, it happened just seconds before his body slammed down into the hard ground, Dick landing on top of him and he was lucky _dear big brother_ was as light as he was, or Jason'd be dead. The jolt that tried ripping him apart was enough to incapacitate, but _fuck_ _that_ , Jason decided he was not going to fucking blackout just because he fell - _what_ , nine storeys? And into - _wait_ , the ground was _wet_. _Sticky_. _Thick_. What? Irritatingly unharmed, Dick hopped off him and Jason realised with a start, he'd fallen into a fucking pit of wet cement. Well, it saved him from breaking his neck but replaced the courtesy by now trying to swallow him.

With the melted snow fucking with the consistency of the cement, watering it down, it was basically grey sludgy water, but still _fuck_. His. Entire. Life. Jason struggled not to swallow any of it and tried clawing out of it, but the texture made it near impossible for him to stay afloat or _swim_. Dick stood on the edge of the pit and watched his efforts to keep from drowning, amused. Jason shot him an hateful leer despite himself, up to his neck and it _still_ didn't distract him from hating Richard Grayson.

" I was planning something else," Dick said, clearly pleased with himself. " But this'll do." He picked up a fallen rebar, a not uncommon find on a construction yard, and never breaking eye contact, raised it to bring down on Jason, unprotected and vulnerable in his current state.

It was in the air, ready to come down.

Jason couldn't help the early wince or bit of fear he felt in his core when he _couldn't_ free himself, trapped and about to be beaten within an inch of his life.

_Deja vu._

But then, right before Dick smashed Jason's skull wide open, they both heard the twang of a bowstring being released and something lightning-fast cutting through the air, flying for seconds until it came to the abrupt stop that was Dick's unshielded body.

A wet, choked half-cry and spray of blood followed the thunk of the arrow lodging.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And according to my timezone, I'll see you next year!


	18. Bye, Bye, Bitch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is now gifted to pudding_bretzel, an up-and-coming Ao3 legend, for her amazing writing and also her support on the nonsense I spew all over my keyboard and pass for fiction. If you like the sorta AU spin on my writing, then you'll love her!

" _Jay-!"_

Literally, Roy turned his back on AK for less than a minute, and that was only to pull a stunned Jason back onto the roof, during the time in which the other crazy nut goes and falls off the building. Dick's doing or not, this came to show you can't take two Jasons anywhere.

Roy could have shot a grapple and caught AK, had he not been midway into getting his partner back onto solid footing. If he had tried, it would mean dropping Jason and possibly breaking his identical's spine. He yanked Jason away from the edge with a dizzy, disoriented groan from him, his helmeted head lolling from one side to the other. Through the break in the hood, Roy saw him blink his unfocusing, dilated eyes at odd times. He wasn't unconscious, at least. Dazed, by the look of it. The blast took a number on him; there's blood in his hair.  _Dammit._

Where he was sure his partner was safe, Roy stopped dragging Jason by his arm and dropped it.

"Wait here, baby," Roy told him, although he didn't hear, "I'll be right back."

No matter the odds and how it seemed, Roy knew Jason - any version of him - was way too fucking stubborn to die, and still, the steady build-up of dread grew larger with the running strides and first glance he took to the ground below, where AK and Dick fell. The fall should have  _killed_  them both, instead, AK was sinking into what looked like cement while Dick stood over him, reaching for a cast iron rebar.

That fucking  _bastard_. AK was trapped, unable to do a thing to help himself and Dick only saw an opportunity to bash his brains out.

Roy needed to help AK but  _fuck_ , he couldn't get down there fast enough to save him. But he had to  _act_. He should have put more thought into it, time he didn't have to spend; Roy snatched his fallen crossbow off the ground and a single arrow from his quiver, an arrow with a  _lethal_  point. The razor-sharp steel tip gleamed when Roy drew it back, the red and black fletching softly stroking by his cheek when he shut one eye, training his aim on Dick. 

Bruce's order not to kill came to mind...

Dick raised the bar to beat AK with and in doing that, practically pulled the trigger for Roy.

He took the shot. 

Here's something Roy knew on a factual level; there's an artery beneath the scapula, the subclavian one, and it runs oxygenated blood to the brain. If cut, the aftermath will almost certainly be fatal. Roy's arrow  _shattered_  Dick's shoulder blade when it tore through, wedging itself deep into the aforementioned vein.

He stayed on the roof to watch the shaft bury itself to the fletching in Dick's back. Stayed to watch him fall. Roy's lungs burning was the notice he needed to slowly breathe out. Then, seconds after, he realised the impact had elicited a thunk and a wet choking noise from Dick. He replayed the noise through his mind before he snapped back into reality.

AK was still sinking.  _Do something, Roy._

Roy blinked rapidly and jogged to his partner. Having come around somewhat, Jason had propped himself, head in his hands, knees to his chest, panting past nausea his head injury caused. His lips were parted and eyes yet to properly track movement around him, namely Roy kneeling hurriedly beside him, hand falling to his shoulder.

"Baby, I need something from your belt." Urgent, he ushered him, Jason blinked up at Roy, confused for seconds before any registration happened. Jerkily, Jason nodded and leaned back on his arms, exposing his middle to Roy for him to search for what he needed.

" _Wh_... Where's... AK?" Jason murmured, while Roy was bent over him, rummaging through the compartments of his belt. His fingers tightened around a grapple and with one sharp tug, disconnected it from Jason.

"I'm gonna go grab him now." Roy stood and Jason tried to follow, pushing himself up on his hands but was too dizzy, falling the short distance back to the ground almost the moment he did.

"Darling, stay here." Roy instructed him and didn't linger to see if he listened - inevitably he  _wouldn't_. He ran back to the edge and looping the grappling hook around the railing of a fire escape, went down nine storeys in strides against the wall. He jumped the last six metres down and didn't waste time in the crouch that saved him from breaking his legs, abandoning the rope.

Dick wasn't dead;  _yet_. He was kneeling, back not straight and his hand wrapped around the bloody shaft of the arrow, drawn back with enough power to plough all the way through him, feathers sticking out from his shoulder blade, crimson arrowhead underneath his collarbone protruding far out. A thick oil-slick slew of blood was drip-dropping. 

AK's eyes were wide blue pools of shock, speckles of Dick's lifeblood sprayed in a whip across his gone-pale face. His mouth was somewhat open, parted lips pushing out no sound. He was transfixed by Dick, shot, bleeding everywhere, wet short breaths coming rapidly. Oxygen cut off from his head by the severed artery, he would suffocate before he bled out. All the numberless times Roy had taken aim, it had never been to kill. Not 'til now.

Jason's gaze flitted to Roy when he heard him coming, Dick's following after, slower.

" _Don't_." Stone cold, Roy raised his crossbow, in line to Dick a second time when his shaky hand went for a batarang to throw, but wisely rethought that. He wasn't doubting Roy would pull back on that trigger anymore. 

"He... He's not worth th - this, R - Roy..." Dick coughed, grinning madly with pink-teeth, as if he had won.  _Jesus_ , had he completely lost the skill to read the situation? 

"Is to me." Roy simply responded, coming right up to Dick and glaring down at him. He glared at his face, into his eyes, his stupid smirk and the arrow impaling him. Lowering his vision, he wondered which hand had Dick held the batarang in when he ran Jason through. Dick was right-handed.

"H -  _he_ ," Dick went on, indicating to AK with a quivering limb, AK who was doing his god-all not to inhale cement while they were having this conversation. "... Isn't your J - Jason, you're... you're helping him,  _why_?" Wasting the last precious half-lungfuls he had on instigating and questioning Roy.  _Smart_. Truly and without question, he was the apprentice of the world's greatest detective. 

"Because he needed help. It's not any deeper than that, Dick." Roy didn't know why he was explaining any of this, Dick didn't deserve words wasted on him.

A little mockery of laughter followed by a chain of wracking breathless coughs, before Dick said,

"He - he's complicated, y'know, R - Roy? Tri - tricky.... he's had s -  _sex_  with th - the  _Joker_. He t - tell you  _that_?" Dick chuckled breathlessly. "Many,  _many_  times... th - that's how f - fucked up he is. He doesn't c - care if-"

"Fuckin'  _drowning_  over here,  _Roy_!" Jason yapped, reminding them of his presence, all the while there was a plea note in his voice, a beg for Roy to not focus on what Dick was saying. And while his words certainly peaked attention, Roy snapped Dick's head back with a kick beneath his jaw before he could start his next sentence. Whatever he had to say, AK didn't want anyone to hear it, and by what he  _already_  got said, Roy wasn't surprised. It may be a lie, it may not, but the archer ignored it. It's  _none_  of his business.

Although he didn't need restraining in his current state of being, Roy fastened Dick's hands behind his back with a length of cord, the fucker wouldn't be their problem for long, and then approached Jason. AK was obviously worried, not so much by his own predicament but moreover what Dick let become known. And still, 

"Gingersnap, pull me out and I'll have your fucking babies." Jason promised, when the cement levels were scarily close to his jawline. Typical Jason, still found time for his inappropriate humour while he was drowning and among other things.

"As beautiful as I know Harper-Todd children would be, it's anatomically impossible for me to knock you up." Roy tiredly, disingenuously smiled, offering his hand to AK. It was over for now, but he'd stop and think about what he'd done later.

_And how he didn't regret any of it._

"God knows that hasn't stopped you from trying with my doppelganger." Jason accepted the hand he extended with his left, smearing sticky thick cement over Roy but he didn't notice. He tightened his fingers around Jason and pulled him, hiding the wince that came from using his wrist, which he somehow wounded _(can't be from holding up 400 pounds of human flesh)_. 

"What're you, like, on him 24/7?" AK continued, while Roy struggled to break the suction that entrapped him, powerful as it was. Roy got the picture that he was only going on like this to keep himself distracted from the near-death experience at his brother's hand and how he was now sinking into cement. Also, Roy'd bet he was trying to distract him from what Dick said. 

Whatever he needed to do.

But he was still gonna get called out for it.

"For someone who doesn't like sex, you sure do talk about it a lot." Grunting, Roy commented through his teeth, feeling AK slipping free some bit but the cement wasn't giving him up without a fight.  _Fuck_ , his wrist was burning. 

"I'm compensating." Jason confessed when the struggle to free him was getting them nowhere. The cement, thin as it was, was still able to hold him like a pit of quicksand.

"Could my boyfriend and my doppelganger quit talking about sex?" They heard a groggy, whine of a voice request and Roy's Jaybird follow suit. He glanced at Dick, and Roy saw a glimmer of satisfaction in him, since now roles were reversed and Dick was the one bleeding out on the ground.

Otherwise ignoring Dick, Jason walked up to them, a little unsteady, but well enough to maintain his balance.

" _How_  did you do this? Literally how?" Jason raised his brows, genuinely baffled as he stared at his double, neck-deep in cement with Roy's hand in his the only thing keeping him from completely going under. 

"How did  _you_  survive infancy?" AK asked, as if his predicament was no kind of obstacle for snark. He must be aware that without his identical's muscle power, Roy wasn't going to be able to pull him out, not with his injury.

"Tender lovin' care of mi momsie." In his best pommie accent, Jason replied, putting his hand on Roy's chest and waved him back a few steps. Roy fixed him with his eyes, confused and mouthing a silent  _what_?

"Move aside, baby." Jason told him, noticing how his partner had sprained his wrist in one or other recent drastic manoeuvre. He shouldn't be using it if it hurt him. Roy took an unsure step back, unable to put it past Jason to kick his twin all the way under. He may have been sorely tempted to, but...

"C'mere, crazy," Jason took his arm, mindful it was the left one, and in one fluid yet sharp yank, ripped him from the grey sandy mud's clutches, pulling his stumbling body onto the safety of the solid bank. Good thing the Knight was as stupidly thin as he insisted to keep himself or that woulda been harder. 

They made eye contact for a hot minute and the Knight snapped his hand out Jason's, as if his touch was kerosene alight. Neither said anything, no thanks but also no derogatory comment that Roy took as a fragment of something he may be mistaken for;  _hope_.

"What do we do with him?" Jason asked, gesturing to Dick, who, aside for rabbit-fast and constant asphyxiated gasps, was quiet.

Though not entirely, now that his head had cleared somewhat from the blow it took, Jason stared at Dick and was only capable of doing so, if he completely dissociated that man from Dick, his  _brother_. That was  _not_  his brother.  _That_  was a monster. 

"Bruce says we can't kill 'im." Roy responded, gazing through half-hooded eyes and red lashes at the bleeding man. His tattooed arms slowly crossed over his chest. It sounded like Roy was wanting to add a suggestive 'Bruce isn't here'.

True, he  _wasn't_.

"Jo - Joker's alive.... Here, lit - little wing, j - just in case you wan -  _na_  be his b - bitch again." Dick sneered, despite everything.

"B - bet you miss g - gettin' fucked hard."

Silently, Jason questioned what the fuck Dick was on about and which one he was talking to (AK he presumed), when he heard the faint scrape of metal on the ground. Glancing from the corner of his eye, to where the sound originated; his double was picking the discarded rebar off the ground, subtle as hell, but Jason saw real anger alight on his features. No, anger was an  _understatement_. And a massive one at that. 

Jason knew what he was going to do and didn't raise a finger to stop him when he put his all behind whipping the bar across Dick's bastard face, sharp welded edges ripping through his skin and  _certainly_ , the Knight shattered something. From the abnormal new angle of Dick's jaw that became visible when he straightened, it was that. He wasn't shrieking in pain as he should, bloodloss the cause of his numbness. Damn, 'cause it'd serve him just to feel that. 

" _Stop_. Fucking  _talking_ , Dick!" the Knight yelled at him, raw. Jason felt his partner shift his stance but they were of a like mind concerning this, and neither did a thing to get in AK's way. Roy wanted this as badly as Jason and his counterpart did, the area he trained his arrow on confirmed it. Roy hadn't flunked a shot as long as Jason had known him, and he went for the kill one.

The Knight busting his jaw did the trick when it concerned Dick no longer tossing jibes at him, but that didn't wipe the look of smugness away. He gurgled out something insensible, words amidst a mess of pain and incoherency, making himself the perfect Kayako Saeki impersonator but the Knight appeared to detect what he meant when neither Jason nor Roy did. 

AK hit him again, enraged by whatever he had said, shattering the bone of his  _right_  arm, shoulder and radius and all,  and if his facial expressions were anything to go by, then Dick actually felt that. Fucking  _good_.

Jason watched Dick be pummelled repeatedly after that, all the while he carefully wound his arm around Roy, asking from the corner of his mouth when he dropped a kiss to his temple,

"You okay?"

"I'm fine, babe," Roy replied, never tearing his attention from  _it_ , and he sounded somehow far-off. Jason could only imagine what was going through his redhead. Hopefully, no regrets over the kill shot but he seriously doubted it was that. Roy wasn't him, Roy didn't kill people and hadn't, but Jason could feel he didn't regret his choice.

"How's your head? You got hit pretty hard."

Jason gestured to the rebar split Dick's side wide. "Not  _that_  hard." And Roy hummed his half-hearted agreement, nodding a bit. 

When it seemed there wasn't a bone left to break, AK grabbed Dick roughly by the scruff of his neck - as he himself had undoubtedly been carried once by the other - and dragged him across the ground, thick paint strokes of blood colouring the way he'd come.

"If you wanna stop me," AK spat at Roy and Jason, vicious eyes turning on them as he stood by the edge of the cement pit, fingers wrapped tight around Dick.

"Then  _shoot_  me." This sounded like the fine printing in a terms and conditions informant, or like him making sure they did, indeed, know what he was doing and going to do. How could they not be aware? 

"We ain't Bruce, crazy," Jason told him, gaze interlocking with his in cold sincerity, "I  _want_  you to kill him."

"If you don't, I will." Roy chimed in, and Jason both liked and didn't that he knew that wasn't a jest. 

AK searched them for a hint or trace of something to prove they were being dishonest with him, relentless eyes raking over them like the rusted prongs of a trident, and when he didn't find it he gave a gruff  _hmph_  and raised his arm with Dick in it, to hold him above the pit that nearly claimed his own life.

The Knight stopped spending his attention on them and when it did once more, find Dick, he cocked his head and when Jason foresaw that demented grin of his making its return, quite surprisingly, a rare glint of what looked like sanity was there instead. Well, maybe not exactly  _that_ , but something scarily close.

"Bye, bye,  _bitch_." With that last parting sentence, AK thrust Dick under the cement's surface, sending waves through it, and held him there with a rigid arm, instead of letting go despite how obviously Dick's state rendered him inept to escape anymore. Jason couldn't be sure if Dick thrashed at all, or if he could with how truly forceful AK's hand around his neck was.

Jason observed. And so did Roy. They didn't speak but there was a raging silent conversation between them. They were both thinking that Bruce wouldn't find the body in the cement, once it dried.  Did AK do this with that specifically in mind, or was it impulse? Either way.

When the Knight rose again, pulling his arm out, grey and sticky up to his elbow, flicking cement off himself, he did it with a satisfied smirk that reminded them once more, that he was off his rocker. Although, Jason wasn't so sure he could judge him for smiling, when he himself had laughed madly while beating Joker. Mayhaps, they really were one and the same person...

There was no remorse on the Knight's scarred face and Jason thinks he woulda slapped it off if there had been any of that misplaced substance. 

"Well," AK started, turning around, "guess you two aren't 90% bitch and 10% weakling like I'd thought. You actually handled yourself alright,  _Roy_." 

" _Wow_ , you're good at after-murder conversation." Jason sarcastically said, arm removed from around his partner to join its twin, crossed over his chest. He hadn't expected them to have an in-depth chat about what just happened, but AK has hit new lows with his ice-breakers.

"Meh," AK shrugged, "I'm more of a 'do, don't talk' kinda guy, but I understand if you,  _Hood_ , have no idea how that works." 

Jason lethargically cast Roy a look. "Why'd you save him, again?"

"He's no more of an ass than you, babe." Roy replied and unlike the two Jason's, he wasn't being sarcastic or smirking or anything. He may not regret it, but it crossed a moral white line with Roy to be an accessory to murder. Jason was guilty over his involvement, even if he couldn't have avoided it. Technically speaking, was it Roy who killed Dick? As he would have died from the wound regardless of AK? Or was it the Knight? Who both beat and drowned him?

 _Both_? Neither would have done it without the other. 

"He was going to kill us all, Roy," Jason said, ignoring his doppelganger for a moment to chat up his partner. "You did what you had to."

"I know." Roy was grim, gazing towards where AK left Dick's body, hidden for the foreseeable future. "Just wonderin' what we're gonna tell Bruce." He swallowed dryly, so easy to see he was beside himself in concern. 

"That the crazy fuck jumped off a building with AK, then while we were tryna drag my double out the cement pit, Dick realised he lost and scampered off somewhere."

Roy shook his head slowly, hopeless and Jason wanted to take that and crumble it up. "He's not gonna buy that, Jay."

"Then we'll advance upon it. We have time."  Jason forcefully responded, and although that wasn't entirely true, he stood by it. For Roy. He took his partner's face between his both hands, so he had to look at him, and not the cement. Roy's emerald eyes were unsure and Jason had enough force of belief for both of them.

"If that old man has anything to say, he says it to me, alright?" 

"I'm not scared of Bruce, Jason."

The Knight appeared quietly beside them, neither had heard his approaching steps and when he spoke, his voice was somewhat of a splash of cold water.

"I'll take the fall." He said. "I mean, I did  _technically_  do it and Bruce knows I'm nuts, he's not gonna think shit is up that I killed Dick. Worst case scenario, he tosses my ass in Arkham for a tick."

Roy blinked at him and Jason would admit, he was surprised his double had sanity about him enough to pose this scenario. Yeah, if Bruce exploded into Roy's face, Jason woulda immediately thrown AK under the bus and pushed himself between his father and partner, whether or not either wanted his involvement. Still.....

"You  _hate_  Arkham, Jay." Roy input and he certainly wasn't wrong, neither was the statement accurate for a small reason.

AK gave him a knowing smirk. "Oh,  _gingersnap_ , if that's what it comes to, you really think a straight jacket and a padded cell is inescapable for me? I fucking taught that Houdini kid." Jason knew himself and he recognised what that tone was, that over-confident, bordering arrogant timbre that was as much to convince himself as others. Jason saw there was no bit of real confidence in his identical.  _Pretending_  is what he was doing.

"It's not gonna come to that, Jason," Roy pushed a smile, feigned, "but thanks, anyway." 

The Knight nodded, biting the inside of his cheek and glancing down, at his cement-covered boots. As if only remembering then that a thick cast was slowly drying around him, he grumbled profanities and started pawing the sludge off him in sheets, but that was easier said than done. It looked really sticky.... Jason better help. It was the decent thing for him to do. In search, he wandered off a short distance and over his shoulder, heard AK say to Roy in a low voice, 

"He was lyin', you know.... About me an' Joker." The Knight sounded like a liar, and the archer must've known that and  _still_ , he replied with a sympathetic,

"I know. Dick's full of shit."

Pretending he didn't hear them, not a word, Jason picked up a discarded hose on the abandoned construction yard ground and searched for its valve. Ah,  _there_  it was. 

A jet of cold water hit the Knight square in the face and he yelped, almost thrown back of his feet and Jason cackled wickedly, a massive and purely evil grin showing his teeth. His hand clamped around the hose, Jason could feel the temperature of the water was somewhere near zero.  _Mwahahaha_.

Raggedly, AK coughed and spluttered, shielding his face with his arm and he turned his head away, then Jason guided the unpleasant spray of water down his neck, and blasted the cement off his chest and remaining limbs. He was  _helping_ , wasn't he?

When the draining fluids went from grey to clear eventually, Jason kept the stream on him thirty seconds longer than he needed to, dousing him to the bone before he let up and cut the water off.

Through a wet visor of hair across his eyes, AK glared bloody murder at him, while droplets rolled off his body and mixed with the sandy ground, turned to mud. Hey, at least he wasn't covered in cement, any more,  _right_?

"Oh, get that look off your face, crazy." Jason wordlessly mocked his sopping form with a grin. At this point, Roy was too done with their shenanigans to stage his disapproval. He stood by, watching, saying nothing to either one.

"Least you're clean now, right?" Jason instigated as if he completely forgot what was best for him, and he barely got that sentence out him before somewhere near 200 pounds of muscle and fury collided smack-bang into him.

The next five or something minutes was spent with them rolling around the ground like quarrelling puppies, feral ones, that is, growling and grunting. AK's hands were wrapped around Jason's throat, trying to choke him out while Jason dug his fingers around his collarbones, pressing particularly hard on the nerves and soft cartilage behind them. It hurt like a motherfucker, he was aware, but if the dumb idiot currently trapped underneath him wanted a skirmish after all that, who was Jason to deny him? Certainly not the legally sane one of the two. 

"-Went easy on you the last time,  _bitch_ -!" AK spat, managing to turn the tables and get Jason on his back, raising a fist to break his face with; that Jason caught, enveloping his wrist. 

"Oh please," Jasons scoffed, planting a boot against the Knight's middle and kicking him over his head.

"I  _let_  you win." With a backward head-over-heels, Jason was back atop his double and pinning his arms. Knives were glared up at him.

"You  _let_  me put you full of holes and sleep with your bae too,  _princess_?" AK sneered.

Jason blinked. " _Wait_  - you-?" He should have seen the tactic for what it was; a distraction.

From the sidelines, Roy observed the two Jasons roughhousing it and his own Jason be sent flying across the construction yard.  AK practically bounded after and it continued.

What were they working out, again?

While they were occupied with that, Roy picked up his fallen crossbow, then the hose used to drench the Knight with, and began washing away the darkening splatters of crimson. If Bruce was suspicious of what they did and investigated, it served them best if there weren't litres of Dick's blood lying at the scene.

The arrow he shot into Dick, at some point during the Knight's beat down, the shaft snapped off and Roy gathered that up too, dropping it into his quiver for later disposal. Red and black fletching, distinctly his; he was happier it wasn't embedded in Dick. No reason he could define, he just was.

AK would have his skull smashed open if Roy  _hadn't_ , then Dick would have come back to finish him and Jaybird off. No matter what Jason may be thinking, he didn't regret taking the shot, not at all,  but what he did regret was snapping at his friend. The real Richard Grayson. It took seeing the Knight's version of Nightwing in person to draw the definitive line, that doppelgangers aside, they were not anywhere near the same man, nor would Dick ever do what his counterpart had. He couldn't. It was no underlying and hidden part of AK's Nightwing that was insane, it was blatant and too powerful to hide.

Dick didn't have a concealed subterranean side to him that should be feared. 

What he'd accused Dick of came from the part of Roy that would say and do anything if he thought it would protect Jason, but that didn't make what he said right.

He would have to apologise, no matter that Dick didn't keep grudges. He probably hadn't liked being accused of having an unhealthy romantic obsession with his little brother and of being a danger to him.

Roy sighed quietly, watching a mixture of blood and water swivel down a storm drain.

Fucking  _Mondays_.

Once Roy finished cleaning up, he spent the rest of their time sitting in the front loader of a digger, waiting for the inevitable moment where he would have to go rescue one Jason from the other. He rubbed soothing circles into his injured wrist with his thumb. He was lucky it was only sprained. 

He almost fell asleep waiting, face buried in his drawn knees, but a scream from one of them snapped him wide awake.

Sighing again, he climbed out of his nest and went to break them apart. 

* * *

 

"This is  _not_  what I wanted to spend today doing." Jason - their Jason - complained aloud when he shoved a decrepit armchair over. An explosion of dust swept over the mouldy carpeted floor.

"As if you had anything more pressing to attend to." Damian scoffed with an eye roll, while he stood on the kitchen side, checking the cupboards for Alfred the cat. Opening doors wide revealed nothing of his interest.

"And why the hell would the damn thing be in  _there_?" Jason gestured an irritated hand to the drying rack Damian had to stand on the tips of his toes to check was empty. 

" _Boys,_ " Bruce growled a warning when a porcelain plate cut through the air like a deadly frisbee, almost decapitating Jason, if he hadn't been so quick to dodge. 

" _Behave_."

While his sons returned to searching the apartment with a huffy sigh and a number of complaints on Jason's behalf, Bruce went back to scouring a bedroom for a whisker or singular sign of Damian's pet. 

Roy wanted to go speak in private to Dick, which left Bruce with one Jason to supervise, and fortunately for his tolerance, Jason's counterpart hadn't come along. Bruce had noticed the two were campaigning for his approval and attention, so there was no doubt in his mind that the Knight would have put on a great show of how much he would  _love_  to help find the cat, but they discovered him asleep in a corner of the cave, curled around himself defensively. This being the first time in five or so days that the Knight actually slept, Bruce took Jason with him nearly by force to keep him from waking his doppelganger with a pail of water or other childish methods he brewed. 

And yes, Jason  _did_  try to trip Bruce when he carried the Knight upstairs. 

 _Brat_. There's a word he'd never used on Jason, but it was befitting.

"Can't we just get another fucking cat? There are ten  _thousand_  strays in this city!" 

"Todd, I will  _gut_  you!"

While they argued, Bruce's phone vibrated against his leg, and he ignored it the same as he had ignored the meeting he should be at right now. It was a million dollar proposition, a single business conference could have made Wayne Enterprises a very wealthy partner in Saudia Arabia, so picture his consultants' faces when Mr Wayne announced he wouldn't be able to make it, because he needed to help his son find his missing kitty. 

He knows he lost a certain amount of respect among his employees, but Damian had spent the whole night frantically fussing after his pet, and Bruce couldn't handle another hour of that. And he did promise they would find it.

Kate, Cass, Dick, Tim, the others, they found and disarmed those bombs that would have taken half the city out and Bruce would admit, he was surprised they weren't dummy explosives. He didn't know why he half expected they were (maybe because it was  _Dick_ ) but Gotham had only survived the night because he chose caution over assumption or confidence. And what if they'd missed it entirely, that Dick's evil twin stopped by the plants? What then? It was  _luck_  that they caught wind of what he was doing. Bruce would rather not dwell on the  _what if._

Bombs disabled, Damian rescued, then there was Jason, his double, and Roy taking Dick on. It shouldn't have been any kind of struggle, no matter how skilled Bruce knew Dick was. When he was outnumbered three to one, advantage wasn't on his side. His Jason had a far greater chance of being unharmed over the Knight, and not just because he wasn't delusional and had no severe physical disadvantage, since if the worst had come to pass, his body would have healed itself eventually. And that's why the switch  _(plus, he did promise the Knight that Dick wasn't going to hurt him again and thus lessened the chances for that to happen)_. 

 _Jason_ , lure Dick out.  _Roy_ , shoot him (take AK with because it was impossible to make him stay) that was the idea, simple, smart, but they  _lost_  Dick?  _Really_? Bruce didn't know if they expected him to believe that, or if they were hoping for the best with the only excuse they could concoct. If they did a single thing Bruce instructed, then Dick shouldn't have been able to just  _escape_ , like all three parties claimed he did. Bruce was going to wait and see which one came forward with the truth first, since with both Jasons trying their god-all to get into his good books, they wouldn't continue lying to him for long.

Yes, he did think they killed Dick.

_"....I hurt Hood, and I hurt Dick and Roy. You remember that, don't you? An' I'm whacked in the head, I won't promise I'll be a good little Robin... I kill people and I'm not sorry."_

Well, it's not like he'd thought AK voicing all those things meant he'd seen the error of his ways. That he wasn't going to ever do one of them again. No, Bruce said he knew what he was getting into and that was true. But, he had also said they could work through it. By his definition, 'working through it' didn't entail whatever the three were expecting him to do, when they chose to lie.

Finding not even a stray hair in the bedroom, Bruce returned to the kitchen, where Damian was tenderly lowering himself off the side. He was and would be for a while, sore from what Dick did, but insisted he should come with to oversee the search. 

"Here, son," Before he could protest, Bruce encircled Damian's narrow chest with both hands and lifted him down, lest he hurt himself further by jumping. Damian muttered a dismissive sound and headed off to search the next room.

"Where's Jason gone?" Bruce asked, following his son and he'd be damned, if he hadn't expected the instant his back was turned, that Jason would leave through the nearest window and leave them looking. And sure enough, there wasn't a sign of him anywhere, more elusive than Alfred.

"He has gone to be useless elsewhere-"

" _MEOW_!" 

" _Argh_  - you  _fucking_ -!!"

Damian ran into the room from which the noise exploded, and Bruce strode after, taking quick steps and his eyes landed upon Jason dragging - or trying- a screaming and hissing cat from underneath a dresser. He had a fistful of its tail and one clawed paw had left deep red cuts up Jason's forearm, his teeth grit with how much rage he had against the terrified animal, spitting up at him.

" _TODD_!" 

Bruce's hand snapped around Damian's shoulder the moment he was going to send Jason through the wall, which is just as well, since Jason lost his grip and Alfred cannonballed into his owner's arms, that closed quickly around him. Damian held the animal tightly to his chest and by his expression alone, directed at his big brother, Bruce knew lack of his supervision would have ended in homicide taking place in this building.

Jason licked a particularly long cut on his arm, saliva stifling the blood leakage, and spat,

"Can we fucking go home  _now_?"

* * *

 

It  _terrified_  Jason, to wake up in a separate place to which he fell asleep in, which is why being faced with the white walls and nice airy room nearly froze his heart in his chest. For the second consecutive time his body shut down on him, a soft, warm cover was laid over him and sitting bolt upright, he hurled it off in a panic. It fell somewhere further away and he swung his legs over the side of the...  _bed_? Jason remembered passing out in the cave, how and why was he now  _here_? Someone even took his goddamn boots and various weapons straps off. 

Jason shivered to himself, suddenly cold and uncomfortable in his own skin. Potentially kind gesture aside, he didn't like people touching him without his sayso, much less when he was unconscious and they felt the need to partially undress him. Call it past experience.

He found his boots, holsters, and other missing tidbits, neatly put away and ventured back toward the cave. He didn't know why, he just did. It was dark, the halls and mansion alike silent say for those occasional night time sounds, like a clock ticking somewhere. He wondered if Bruce was out on patrol already. Sorta, he hoped not. He didn't want to be stuck with gingersnap and Hood, who didn't even live here, so they may have gone home for the evening. 

Hood was absolutely fucking moronic, but Jason did kinda like ginger. And still, he didn't really want to be around them at that moment, not while he was trying to figure out why they let him kill Dick. What were they getting out of standing back...? Why did Roy shoot Dick to save him and why did his bitch then help him out the cement? Sure, Roy said it was because Jason needed help and Hood was probably doing it for his own secret reasons, but people never did anything selflessly. 

That was a fact he'd learned. 

Jason gave himself only time, he would figure out their angle soon.

It had been a rush then, but just like when he killed Joker, Jason found he didn't really feel any different in the aftermath of bashing Dick's brains out. 

He'd expected that to be the magic potion that could heal old wounds. Hadn't he learned yet, that the world wasn't perfect, and that wasn't how revenge worked? 

And with all these thoughts, not one of them was mildly remorseful. It saw a grin form on his face when he realised he'd not only killed Dick Grayson, but  _Batman_  as well.

_"The Arkham Knight's end goal was to murder Batman. Don't you remember, Jason?"_

Haha. Fucking  _irony_. He half wished he hadn't drowned Dick in a pool of cement, just so he could rerun that sentence by him.

Soon finding himself in the cave, the monitors were the only thing illuminating the darkness and against the glaring artificial lighting, stood the Bat. Jason was slowly adjusting to seeing Bruce walking around, wearing the cowl instead of  _him_ , and it took a few seconds to settle to that each time. 

Bruce looked like he was getting ready to go out, fastening the various clasps of his suit into place, and Jason stayed quietly in the shadowy staircase, watching him work. He appeared to be alone, no Hood or Robin. Maybe that was because Bruce wanted to go out alone and Jason should just keep his presence unknown. But, in his experience, Batman rarely went out solo.  He  _could_ , easily, he just didn't. 

 _Wait_  - what if Bruce was going out alone to investigate because he  _knew_? Knew that Jason did, in fact, kill Dick. Oh  _fuck_. Sure, he'd said he was willing to take the fall and get locked up to spare ginger an undeserved part in the sentencing, but that didn't mean -  _god_ , the idea alone of being incarcerated in  _Arkham_  again made his heart pound and breaths come faster. Blackgate, sure, yeah, that he could handle. Easy peasy. 

But. Not.  _Arkham_.

"Are you going to hide until I leave?" Bruce's calm voice cracked a hole into Jason's jumping to conclusions that by themselves, were enough to give him a panic attack. The stare that fixed on him was intense and just the idea that Bruce might know what he did, Jason wanted to slide down the wall and have the earth swallow him up, and not because daddy would be disappointed in the truth, but... well,  _Arkham_. Arkham was where Bruce tossed the crazy ones when they broke a rule, especially if it was his golden one.

Christ, in the flare of murder lust, Jason hadn't even  _thought_  of what would happen after. Not  _really_.

" _Jason_?" Bruce raised a questioning eyebrow and came closer when Jason pressed himself into the wall,  _away_  from him. Soon, those hands would slap cuffs around him, twist his arm behind his back, try to keep him  _down_ , the way he  _didn't_  want. 

"You're -  _you're_  not gonna send me back  _there_ , Bruce." Jason shook his head forcefully, eyes narrowing to regard the nearing man with distrust and the promise of what he would do, if it came to self-defence.  He searched behind his back for his gun. What if, all along,  _let's fix this_ meant to make it the way it  _should_  be? With Jason in a mental institution? And not just any institution...

"Send you where, Jason?" Bruce was looming over him and he too, went for something hidden by the folds of his cloak and when Jason expected it to be restraints or to come back as a solid backhand across his face, all his hasty assumptions proved incorrect when Bruce offered him... his  _helmet_? The  _Knight's_  helmet? Hadn't Hood broken that when they first tangoed? How was it...

"It's a school night for Damian," Bruce explained and the note of hostility Jason thought he'd heard had evaporated. 

"If you're feeling up to it, why don't you come on patrol with me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sniff* Let's just take a moment to appreciate how far our baby AK's come. He ALMOST trusts some people. 
> 
> Now, Dick's gone, bye, bye and good riddance, but not all's well yet and we still have a bit of work to do, don't you think, sweet-faces?


	19. Trust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. Again. It's been what, three days? Yeah, it's me, that person who's spamming you with updates. I needed a good dad moment really, very badly, so I wrote it faster than I thought was possible for me to do anything. 
> 
> Also,
> 
> *Samara Morgans in out of your device screen to give out handkerchiefs* 
> 
> Keep those handy.

Jason was suspicious from the moment Bruce invited him on patrol, his paranoid mind immediately jumping to dire conclusions like  _daddy_  wanted him alone to confront him on Dick's murder, and probably break some bones while they were at it.  

Jason wanted to tear his hair out because he thought they were back to square one. But like that night on the roof of Arkham Asylum, when he considered impaling himself on the fence surrounding it, he didn't care. He was too fucking tired to care when he wordlessly agreed to go with Bruce. Come what may, he didn't feel like he had the mental capacity to fight Bruce on it.

Arkham would kill him anyway, so haa-fucking- _haa_.

But then, two hours in, and Bruce had hardly spoken to him. Jason knew what was coming and the old man was just emotionally torturing him until it did, getting every drop of enjoyment he could from the anguish he caused. Didn't he deserve that suffering after killing the golden boy?

Yeah, well, Jason had no fucking clue how deserving actually worked. Does a stupid fifteen-year-old kid deserve what happened? Fuck knows.

They stopped a robbery, a mugging, as well as something Riddler was up to in the dockyard. And all with the bare minimum in communication. Bruce was really dragging this punishment out, wasn't he? When he must be aware that the silent treatment hurt tenfold what his fists did. God, this reminded him of the first time he went to a charity gala with Bruce, just a confused street urchin, following his new dad like a shadow because he had no idea what was going on, and questioning everything.  _Why are all these people wearing jewels? What is that lady drinking? What's wagyu? What do they do with all that money? Are they all your friends? They all look like penguins with ties..._

The difference now, Jason got the vibe to keep his mouth shut.

Jason was wearing his suit, protected by the kevlar and iron plates but he kept expecting a batarang to split his skin wide.  _Why?_  Well, Batman did it to Hood already. Sure, it wasn't  _Bruce_  who did it, but it was  _Batman_. Same difference.

"Wait here." Bruce said at one point, stern when he looked at Jason and he didn't explain in any way, why Jason should stay on the corner of Crime Alley while the big bad Bat swanned off. He didn't explain and before he could be asked to, he'd gone somewhere out of sight.

This was the first time tonight he wasn't being supervised, which made it opportune for him to vanish now, before Bruce got to the beef of the matter. And still, he didn't, that tiny Robin voice in him insisting that,

_"He's going to help. Like he promised, he's going to help."_

Hoping against hope that somehow, this wasn't what he was thinking. But how couldn't it be? Life hated him, it's long since been established.

Jason sighed and slumped his shoulders, not sure when Bruce was coming back or what he would do once he did. Actually, he knew what, he just didn't want to admit it. The thrill of putting Dick down didn't last as long as he'd hoped it would. He kept praying for his insanity to take hold again and mask how he was blatantly  _miserable_. So there's that thing he hadn't had enough of in his twenty or so years of life.... misery.

He just wished Bruce would get it over with. Confront him, break something, and toss him into the nut house with Joker. He would. Hood himself had said he'd been incarcerated at Arkham, so that wasn't beneath Bruce by any means.

_**"He's gonna give you back to me...."** _

Widely, Jason grinned, bitter-sweet, when that rotten voice crept back in. He was grinning because he had been right, despite recent silence, the Joker wasn't gone for good. He was never gone. The warm and familiar tingle of madness came with him.

"I've been wondering where you were."

_**"Getting lonely in your head, was it? That's what I'm here for, pumpkin."** _

"I'm so  _glad_." He looked around the alley while he spoke, waiting for Bruce.  _Wish the old Bat would just get it over with...._

**_"Scared of daddy, sweetheart? You should be. Remember it's Hoodsie he cares about and not you... the only reason he hasn't snapped your neck yet is that he doesn't do those fun things. But he will toss you on a silver platter an' hand you right over to Uncle J! And think of all the fun we can have!"_ **

"Only fun we're ever going to have,  _ever_  again, is me ripping your fucking face to pieces." Jason darkly swore because he wasn't going to get locked up with Joker and let that clown be free to do to him as he wished. Not a second time.

_**"Yes, yes, that sounds like fun, but wouldn't you rather have a Joker-pop in that pretty mouth? You always seemed to like that."** _

"And you always were fucking delusional."

 **"That makes two of us, baby,"**  Oh good God, Jason could hear the sneer in his voice.  **"That makes two of us...."**

Brakes screeched when the batmobile pulled up at the alley's mouth. It startled Jason a bit. When had Bruce gotten the car?

The black tinted window rolled down an inch, just enough for the voice that sometimes scared him to say,

"Get in."

When she wasn't drunk or high or at least, sober enough to put a sentence together, Cathy taught -  _told_  him to never get in a car with a strange older man. And Jason didn't know a  _single_  man who was stranger than Bruce. But he doubted it applied in this situation.

And here come the conflicting thoughts.

_"He promised..."_

_**"Also promised to protect his birdy, didn't he?"** _

_"That was an accident. It wasn't intentional."_

**_"Accident, intentional, yadda, yadda. Either way, Brucie isn't the one left to pick up the pieces, is he?"_ **

_"He's helping you now."_

**_"Five. And a half. Years. Later."_ **

_"He thought you were dead for five years and you hid from him all that time."_

_**"Exactly who gave you that scar? Was it moi? Or the man who didn't do anything to prevent it?"** _

Jason went with Bruce.  _Again_. Against his better judgement and every screaming instinct that kept him alive to this point, he went with Bruce.

Silence reigned dominant and while they drove, Jason didn't ask where Bruce disappeared to. But, when they passed the city line, Jason realised with some cold dread settling, that they were driving out of Gotham.

Throat constricting, he swallowed against the restrictive collar of his suit and without turning his head, sidled his eyes to Bruce. He was  _worried_. When he was in charge of his militia, he took specific note to punish moles and traitors; he found a nice secluded patch of forest and like dogs, shot each one in the back of the head.  _Bang, bang, bang, bang_. He pulled the trigger personally, an inch away because he wanted them to feel how close he was and smell the gunpowder. He procrastinated, he did that a lot, to drive his victims to the point of a nervous breakdown, until it got too much and they  _begged_ for him to do it _._ Fear was a strange thing, the way it made you beg.

_"N - no. Pl - please, j - just let me go..."_

_**"Hahahah! Batman ain't gonna want you back once I'm done!"** _

" _Bruce_ ," Jason finally gathered the courage to speak, but his fingers did tighten around the door handle as he did.

"Wh - where are we going?" Why did he sound so goddamn timid when he asked that?

Bruce glanced at him, keeping a firm grip on the wheel like it owed him money.

"There's nothing to worry about, Jason." He said and didn't ease Jason's nerves  _at all_. It's like him saying that made it all worse.

Giving a quiet, unhappy noise, Jason pressed himself deeper into the seat, afraid despite not knowing what was going to happen now. Quite large and dear-like stare, he watched the road ahead.

Jumping out the car at this speed would probably kill him.

**_"Save me the trouble then!"_ **

When they stopped, it was at a hillside clearing, tall leafy trees surrounding - maybe aspen, but autumn saw their leaves turning yellow and brown and falling off branches, to form a thick blanket over the ground. Where Bruce parked, it overlooked the city and all its millions of lights.

Once he pulled the handbrake, Bruce gave a small sigh and sat in silence. For a second. Then he got out the car and stepped into the night, slamming the door behind him. Jason was hesitant to follow him but thought he'd go mad if he didn't stop speculating with what they were doing here.

**_"The truth shall set you free!"_ **

Jason nervously followed him, quietly coming up behind him; Bruce was standing with his back to Jason, still saying nothing.

Was he deliberately trying to be eerie?

"...  _Bruce_?" Jason approached him, steps cautious, voice modulated by his helmet so he hoped it disguised that undertone that was anything but certain.

"Jason, I need to show you something." He finally said, unsettlingly and it was as if walls closed around Jason, or that he was suffocating. Bruce was going to do  _it_ , wasn't he?

"Bruce, I  _had_  to kill D-" Jason tried to say while he took a sharp step back, out of instinct and it proved to be correct when Bruce spun around and brought his fist down and Jason didn't think; he acted out of self-defence engrained into him, putting his arm out to block the blow.

Too late did he realise it was his  _right_  arm.

Jason knew what was going to happen, his shoulder was going to be torn from its socket under Bruce's raw strength, exceeding his own.

But...  _No_. To Jason's utmost surprise, the strike Bruce aimed at him came to a stop against his forearm, that  _didn't_  shift or dislocate from the collision. What? That wasn't right. Jason couldn't block attacks with this arm, any attempt ending in the severe displacement of a joint. Yet here he was, not feeling so much as a twinge of pain. His shoulder felt secure like it hadn't once been smashed to pieces with a fire extinguisher.

Bruce must have seen his confusion because he said,

"How's it feel?" He asked, removing the hand Jason thought was going to hurt him. Bruce didn't sound angry...

"Wh -  _what_?" Jason backed away from him a bit, his confusion not getting in the way of his questions and caution.

"How does  _what_  feel?"

"Your arm." Bruce simply put. "I installed a hydraulic brace in your suit to support it."

Baffled, Jason took a beat to figure out what he was talking about. A  _brace_? In his  _suit_? Now that Bruce brought it up... he did notice added compression incircling his shoulder that hadn't been there before, squeezing just enough in the right spots to make it stay in place when he spun it experimentally. A quiet, very easily missable mechanical whirr purred every time he did, but it wasn't out of place next to the sounds his armour made. Whatever this thing was, this  _brace_ , it was built directly into his suit.

"When.... When did you do this?" It was so painless Jason couldn't believe it. He'd forgotten what that felt like.

"When you were sleeping earlier. It's just a prototype but-"

" _Why_?  _Why_. Did you do it?" Jason was immediately sceptical because no one ever did anything purely selflessly. Was this a bribe to reveal Dick's true fate, if Bruce didn't already know?

"Because, son," Bruce began and Jason couldn't feel settled with how patient he sounded.

"Your arm was hurting you and while I can't fix that, I could make it less painful."

As was his habit, Jason searched Bruce for anything that might reveal what he wasn't saying; that real underlying reason he did this. It couldn't be.... but Jason kept hoping it was that simple.

_**"Don't you know better than to trust daddy Bats? Remember last time you did...?"** _

"I'm working on something else," Bruce went on, over his shoulder because he was on his way back to the car.

"Something like that brace, inconspicuous, so you can wear it under your clothes, during the day." He opened the door, only to take a paper bag from the back seats, then shut it firmly again. 

"You still won't be able to do gymnastics with it, of course." Bruce leaned with the small of his back against the Batmobile, opening the bag when he realised Jason still stood a healthy and dubious five meters from him.

"I'm not going to hurt you, son. Please, come here." Bruce gestured, the former thing he said suggesting he knew exactly what was going through Jason's head.  _How_? Well, he was  _Batman_.

Tentatively, Jason took some steps closer to him, slowly, but when still no batarangs were thrown, he gained some confidence in Bruce and joined his side. Bruce let him take all the time he wanted to approach like he  _understood_. Jason pulled himself onto the batmobile's hood, crossing his legs and looking to Bruce.

_"He just fixed one of your biggest weaknesses with his brace, without you asking him to. Doesn't that earn him anything? Trust him, Jason. Just trust him, even a little."_

"... What are we doing here?" Jason asked, and then frowned when from the bag, Bruce handed him something in a thin paper wrapper. It was warm in his hands when he sceptically accepted it, soft, and hardly believed that  _Batman_  just handed him a burger. He didn't mean to look like he'd never seen food when he turned it in an examination.

Bruce got one of his own and started peeling the wrapping back. He took a bite, chewed, and swallowed before he answered.

"We're here to have some late dinner." While he explained, he gave Jason a cardboard cup and although he saw from the unmistakable logo on the side, what it was, he still gave Bruce the look of confusion.

"It's Pepsi; vanilla. Red likes it, I thought you might, as well."

"He also likes  _guys_."

"He likes both, but he claims he's an objectophile, as apparently, Roy falls into the tool category." Bruce smiled a bit at the end there. How strange, to see him smile. It was something Jason hadn't seen for years now.

"Hood's fucking stupid." Jason bluntly proclaimed when he removed his helmet and took a sip of the drink he accepted, through the white straw with the yellow line running down one side. The flavour that filled his mouth was soft and pleasant in every sense of the word, this specific treat another something he hadn't experienced in years but he wouldn't let Hood become aware they had a single thing in common as far as preferences go.

"He can be stupid, yes," Bruce admitted and took Jason by surprise by doing it.  _Ha_. One for team AK, he was definitely repeating that to Hood later.

"But we're not here to talk about Red."

".... What about then?" God, please don't let it be Dick and his demise.  _Please_  don't let it be that.  _Anything_  but that.

"Nothing, in particular. Unless you can think of anything."

"N - not really."  _Jesus_ , this was fucking strange. What was this? What were they doing? He couldn't accept that they were only here for a quick bite and stargazing. That  _wasn't_  how he and Bruce interacted.

_"Maybe that's how this Bruce and Hood interact?"_

"I'm  _not_  Hood." It was an accident that that came out aloud, and again, he felt Bruce looking at him from the corner of his eye. Jason took a mouthful of his burger and barely chewed before he swallowed it down, burning his throat and praying Bruce would ignore what he said. He didn't want his fucking delusions to ruin whatever this thing that they were doing was.

"Which one are you talking to?" Bruce quietly asked, no longer focusing on the food. It didn't sound like a pry or accusation, but rather a concerned inquiry. A concerned  _fatherly_  inquiry.

Jason was hesitant to answer, or at least, he told himself he should be.

"...Robin." Was the response, hardly an octave higher than a whisper. Jason was tense for the moment of the eye roll and dismissive mutter of how crazy he was.  _Is_.

And in place of that,

"What's he saying?"

".....That I've got nothing to worry about... and that I can  _trust_  you."

Bruce nodded, he wasn't looking at Jason, but rather the city in the near distance. "And do you believe him?"

Jason shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. What would the  _wrong_  answer entail?

"Uh... I want to, but every time when I think that I  _might_ , the...  _other_  voices, make that difficult." Sighing softly, Jason ate some more so as not to have to keep speaking, since every word just gave Bruce more of a reason to throw him in Arkham. Voices? Talking to himself? He's pretty sure Joker or someone like Zsasz have the same thing.

"The Joker-voice?"

"Y.. yes. That one." Jason wasn't going to ask how Bruce knew the clown was the lead disruption. He just knew.

"What does he tell you?"

Jason didn't know if Bruce was baiting him for a cause to lock him up, he hoped not and everything so far pointed against it, and just this once, he listened to the Robin-voice.

"All the worst things.... Keeps reminding me of why I should  _hate_  you. And what he did to me. And what he wants me to do." Jason had put his food, long since forgotten, down so he could hold his head in both hands, fingers carding through his hair. "And sometimes... it's nothing at all that he's saying. Just random things. Just things he can distract me with."

He heard Bruce nod. "How long has it been Joker?"

" _Four_  years?" Jason shrugged, unsure. He wasn't keeping count. "Maybe five? First started when...  _when_..."

But Bruce... he understood what Jason was trying to say  _somehow_. Jason wasn't sure why he ever went on.

"It didn't use to be Joker. To begin with... it was _you_." Jason raised his head a fraction, looking through his fingers at Bruce to see how this affected him.

" _Me_?" Bruce was a natural at hiding his emotions but he couldn't hide how he was a little surprised.

"Yeah, you.... you used to tell me you were coming... when it got really bad. And that you weren't far away and I just needed to stay alive a - a little bit longer." Jason hated that he heard cracks in his own voice when he said that and felt how it made his throat involuntarily tighten to remember.  _Push it down. Push it down._

"But then he kept  _beating_  me and  _hurting_  me and forcing himself  _on_  me, doing things I didn't want and... it wouldn't  _end_. I stopped thinking you were actually going to come.... then you stopped talking to me." Jason blinked unwanted and too-strong emotion back. "Guess that's when you  _really_  left me." With the back of his hand, he roughly pawed away something that was blurring his vision. Fuck emotions.

_"Push it down, Jason."_

Bruce was quiet, digesting what was quite a load for even  _him_  to take in at once. He too had forgotten about the food and it was gradually cooling.

"And after that, it was Joker in your head and not me?"

"Yeah." Jason came off as half as miserable as he felt. He looked out, towards the city and noticed just how soundless it was out here. There were no cars and sirens. Just silence and the overbearing knowledge that Bruce must be making assumptions about him right now, like that he was coming up with all of this to excuse everything the Arkham Knight had done.

Yeah, 'cause he hadn't heard  _that one_  in a Romani accent before.

"I'm so sorry, Jason." Bruce said. His voice was sombre. He was looking somewhere else too.

"That I couldn't find you."

Jason took a second. Once again, he'd heard that one more than a couple times already. It seemed to be all Bruce could ever say.  

"... Yeah, well, Joker made sure I knew you wouldn't." Jason's arms tightened around himself. "When you hired Tim, Joker used to show me recorded clips of you and the new Robin, fightin' crime an' running and.... Not being...  _Me_.  _Daddy's found a new baby_..... That's what that  _fucking_  clown would say, but.... It took a really long time for me to make it out."  _Over his screams and pleads and tears._

Bruce was a detective at heart, he always wanted the full details to a story and this was no exception, but he was extremely careful when he asked,

"... Why?"

Jason shivered and felt suddenly cold. Something in his chest was hurting and fingers of fire licked over his skin. He shouldn't be telling Bruce any of this.  _Push. It. Down._

_"Didn't you want him to help you? He can't if he doesn't know what the problem is."_

"Because.... that's when he'd....  _He'd...._ m - make me... sl -  _sleep_  with him. _.._ " Oh  _why_  did his voice have to break then? Why did he need to enfeeble and choke on those words? He'd gotten the sense that he was weakening and it was getting harder to breathe and think but... it wasn't fair that he could be taken apart in such a flash flood. And by what? One  _bad_  memory? 

Shuddering, whining, Jason pulled his knees to his chest to hide his face in them. He needed a second elsewhere in his head to console himself and not let Bruce see what this topic did to him. He didn't want to think about  _it_. If he denied it then it  _didn't_  happen.

_"It didn't happen. It never happened. Joker never did that to you. It's the fear toxin that made you think so. It's just in your head. It's not real."_

"Jason," Bruce's hand carefully slid onto his back, between his shoulder blades, stroking soothing lines there.

"Son, it's going to be alright," Bruce said, or did he  _promise_? His other arm made to move around Jason but then paused, midway.

"Can I touch you?"

Jason didn't want him to. Jason really,  _really_  didn't want him to.

He nodded yes and Bruce... Hugged him. Or  _held_  him, at least, arms caging him while Jason was bent around himself. Jason couldn't tell you why Bruce did that, because these things never helped. Physical interaction had no grounds to stand on when it came to easing mental strain. It didn't make him forget and it didn't make it any less painful. Jason didn't feel any better and it  _wasn't_  intentional to lean into Bruce's chest. He wasn't thinking like himself when he did it.

**" ~~Denial is such an ugly thing, little wing~~."**

Jason's eyes narrowed when he winced, spilling beads of salt and water over his lashline.

"...  _No_." He breathlessly whimpered, face partially hidden against Bruce's chest. Jason's fingers entangled tighter around his hair, pulling out numerous strands as if trying to rip the voice from his skull.

**" ~~Don't want to be ugly, do you? I don't want you ugly. You need to stay pretty, it's already hard enough with that scar but any worse, and what good are you~~?"**

**"Hohoho! He's not wrong, baby bird!"**

" _Leave_. Me  _alone_." Jason half pleaded and his voice sounded anything but the unphasable, fearless Arkham Knight's. Carefully, Bruce's hand settled over the one Jason was using to tear at himself with and, reflexively, it uncurled, releasing the locks. Bruce guided his arm back to his side and replaced it when he started slowly to stroke Jason's head, easing those spots he'd been ripping at.

"He isn't real, Jason. He isn't really here." Bruce told him, Jason's breathing was shaky and rapid as it caressed him. The whole boy was shaky, quivering as if he'd never felt warmth on his skin.  _Jesus_ , he felt tiny the way he was curled up. Bruce continued carding widened fingers through his alternate-son's tousled hair, well aware there was a number of things going on that he couldn't see or hear, but he spoke to Jason in a quiet, calm tone, trying to make  _his_  the voice that Jason focused on.

"He.  _Won't_. Shut  _up_." Jason whispered, to each word knocking on his temple, and his eyes were wide as they stared at something far away. He wasn't even crying, which left many options as to what to call  _this_.

"But he isn't real, son. You're real, I'm real,  _he_  isn't." True, Bruce wasn't exactly sure which 'he' was being referred to, it could be any one of the repeat offenders alive in Jason's mind, but he didn't let that deter him.

"Then why..." Jason shuddered. "....does he keep  _speaking_ to me?"

"Because he wants to keep controlling you. You can't let him. You have to ignore what he says." That was much easier said than done, Bruce knew, and if it were that easy then no one would have mental illnesses. No one would suffer and no one would know what pain felt like.  _In a perfect world..._

"Sometimes..." Jason snuffled. "...I think he's not just in my head."

"But you know that's impossible, don't you?" Bruce lowered his gaze to ask, and Jason was fidgeting with his hands, twisting his fingers back the way Bruce knew he did when he was nervous or uncomfortable.  _Or when a panic attack was involved._

Jason didn't respond to his question, in any way, and while he was given a moment to do so when he didn't take it, Bruce slid his hand around Jason's head and pressed his ear against his chest, right above where his heart was.

"Hear that?"  _Th-thump-th-thump-th-thump._  "That's real, Jason. And this," he touched Jason's pulse in his neck, pushing down lightly so they both felt it. "That's real, too. Joker, the rest, they don't have that. When  _he_  won't leave you alone, you have to remember that he can't actually do anything to you anymore, because he  _isn't_  alive."

"What if he's the  _real_  Joker? He isn't dead here."

"Then, if you need it, I'll help you."

Jason nodded, quiet and wouldn't draw his eyes from the distance. That answer appeared to calm him somewhat. Or then he was trying not to acknowledge whoever was speaking to him now.

Some time passed and his breathing evened out, finding a kind of consolation of what was real, by keeping his head pressed up against Bruce's chest and listening to the constant, steady drumming of his heart. Bruce let him stay there until he himself wanted to move, and with his chin rested on Jason's hair, watched the bright yellow floodlight taking up the sky above Gotham.

Hood was told to keep watch over the city for tonight, he'd go tend to whatever the commissionaire wanted because Bruce saw himself as having more important matters to attend to.

"We killed him." Jason mumbled after a considerable yet indiscernible time period went by. He hadn't moved yet.

"We killed Dick."

 _Finally_ , Jason confessed like Bruce wagered he would, though none of this had been to bait that out of him, not once. This was just a bonus issue to resolve. 

Bruce replied, low but frank, "I know you did, Jason." He opened his arms for Jason to suddenly leave when he sat up, pulling back as he straightened, palming the dampness from his eyes and he was looking more like the Arkham Knight now, his weak, vulnerable side drawn back behind those stone walls.

"You  _do_?" Jason's eyes met his and though cracks were still remaining visible, they weren't making it back to his voice. Instead, a sense of surprise did.

"Why haven't you done anything?"

"Because what you did... it was necessary." This reply, it was easy to see how it took Jason apart, Jason who was raised on the notion that Batman hated murder. He did, yes. But necessity was a cold hard dose of reality that he couldn't ignore. Dick was psychopathic and what he had proven he was, was  _evil_. He hurt Jason, both of them, he hurt Damian, and he wouldn't have minded if half the city and with it, hundreds of  _innocent_  people became victim to the explosions he planted.

He was better dead.  _Everyone_  was better with him dead.

"You... you aren't going to lock me up in Arkham again, are you?" He was worried. ".... the Knight has killed  _a lot_ of people."

"No, Jason. I'm not locking you up anywhere." Bruce said, quite honestly. "You probably don't know this, but your doppelganger has killed many,  _many_  people, too. He isn't in prison for that, you won't be either."

Jason rubbed the back of his neck, face as if a light of understanding dawned upon him. "I was wondering why Hood let me kill Dick but I guess... it probably explains it if he's not shy of murder either."

"He isn't, but he restrains himself due to an agreement we have, and I need you to do that too. Do you think you can?"

"I... I can try." Jason did  _not_  look excited about this, but what choice did he have when he knew his double was restraining himself, and not trying at all meant he'd be bested by Hood. In his own head, at least. Bruce  _may_  have used his knowledge of their nameless competition to his advantage.

"Good." Bruce gave him the cooled burger he'd forgotten on the edge of the mobile's hood, that he was still sitting cross-legged on.

"Finish your food."

Shockingly, Jason didn't argue and took it, biting off a small piece unlike his counterpart, who would have wolfed the whole thing down in two chomps. If they were in the same place right now, they would be having an eating competition. In his mind's eye, Bruce could see it, clear as day.

"Bruce," Jason, by appearance, was timid again when he spoke. He was holding the half-eaten burger in his hands and Bruce glanced at him.

"Hmm?"

"I.... I'm sorry about - y'know - what I did to Hood. Pretending to be him and all." He was looking intently at his food and all but mumbling out that apology. Clearly, it was real regret he bore.

"Let's not worry about that anymore, okay, Jason?"

Briskly, Jason nodded but was quick to add a convinced, "But I'm not apologising to Hood."

Unable to help himself, smiling a bit, Bruce reached out and ruffled his hair, as if he were ten. "Trust me, he isn't expecting you to."

"Maravilloso, 'cause that'd be like expecting  _actual_  skill from him. Fucking weak fairy bitch. I mean, where does he get off on thinking he's actually good enough to be my identical? He's fucking useless, I'm not surprised he's so latched onto Roy because he sure as  _hell_  needs someone to cover his ass. Literally, I've never met a more inept moron....." While distractedly smoothening down the hair Bruce messed up, Jason went on, finding every possible derogatory term he could for his double and Bruce let him go on with his mindless vent without a word. It was impressive how many insults he knew. Maybe more than Bruce's Jason and some of those sounded like the Knight had invented them himself.

While Jason ranted, Bruce ate the last of his burger and cleaned his hands on a napkin.

They never came up here to resolve every little thing. They couldn't, no matter how Bruce wished they could. He had established trust between himself and Jason, like he had said he would, and that alone was enough for now. That talk of theirs by no means meant that everything with Jason was alright. Hell no, this wasn't even a half-way point.

But this was a step in the right direction.

This was a  _start._  

* * *

 

A migraine coming on, Jason was working on breakfast, torso bare, yet to properly clothe himself from his morning shower, when Roy came up behind him without so much as a shuffle of his socks on the carpet and his hands landed as softly as a butterfly on Jason's hips, fingers not pressing or applying any pressure what so ever. They simply rested there, on top of last night's bruises.

"Mornin', beautiful." Roy yawned, drowsiness in his voice that Jason could not relate to, and Jason murmured something in response, continuing to lean over the kitchen side while he stared at the recipe that refused to yield its secrets. That was too much sugar for Dutch pancakes, he knew it was, so why was this damn WikiHow page telling him lies? Do what  _Alfred_  would...

He filled his measurement cup to half the sugar the page was demanding and feeling confident over his choice, poured it into the coming-along mixture.

"How do you feel?" Roy asked, bent around Jason, arms now snaked about his waist and chin resting on his shoulder so that their faces touched. He was asking because, well, that incident with Dick would take its toll on  _anyone_. Heck, even Roy had been quiet last night, lost in thought and doing it without musing aloud, which was unusual. As was him being awake at eight am.

Maybe he didn't sleep. Somehow. Y'know,  _after_  Jason decided to give up caring about his heart rate, Roy should be fucking  _exhausted_.

"I think the internet is lying to me." He gestured to the page. "It says two cups of sugar but I disagree.  _Two_. For  _pancakes_. These fucking people were high when they wrote this."

"Mmh." Roy hummed acknowledgement to his dilemma without understanding the problem to its full extent. That or he was understating it.

"Hey, you talk to Dick yesterday?" Jason asked, not looking away from breaking up the clumps of flour in his batter with a wooden spatula. Roy watched him work, quite content to stay nuzzled up to him for the rest of the day.

"Yeah," he did eventually reply. "I filled him in on some of the shit that went down." Of course, Jason didn't know about what Roy had said to Dick that needed apologising, that whole 'leave him alone' thing, and Roy was well aware that Jason wouldn't - for one reason or another - like that intervention. And he didn't have to hear about it since, according to Dick, it was water under the bridge. Good  _god_ , he was forgiving. He was a fucking care-bear.

"You tell him  _everything_?"

"He doesn't know we killed his doppelganger if that's what you mean."

"And what did he say about what he thought happened?" Jason inquired, in between cracking an egg into the ceramic bowl and putting the shells away, into the trashcan underneath the sink. 

"The usual Dick Grayson reactions, but mostly he was tired and a bit pale. I think he's getting sick." Roy mused, mostly into Jason's shoulder. There was a flu going around maybe, to explain how Dick hadn't hug-attacked him or anything yesterday.

"I should probably talk to him soon, too, huh?" Jason asked. "Let him know I'm not scared of him and all that shit."

"You're  _not_?" Roy raised his head a bit, arching a brow at how unexpected that was. He felt the tense line of Jason's shoulders slacken slightly when he paused to think of a good response. He tipped his chin up and stared at the ceiling for a tick.

"I mean, I  _was_ , but mostly 'cause I kept thinking - _oh, what if he's evil-Dick in disguise?_  It wasn't difficult for that crazy bitch  _AK,_ pretending to be me, to fool people, and that's  _with_  the massive physical differences."

Roy felt himself involuntarily stiffening at the mere reminder. Much as he didn't despise the Knight, he would never appreciate that stunt or his own inability to detect it.

"But now, the prick's dead, he won't be impersonating anyone, so we're good." He finished by cracking the final egg and delicately separating the yolk by tipping it between shells, all without spilling a drop onto himself.

"So you're really over it?" Roy was sceptical about that.

"Nope." Jason confessed but sounded somehow less caring than he should. "But I've got better things to do than being hung up on it. Shit happens, but get on with it, y'know?"

"I guess..." Roy shrugged and didn't make a greater deal of it. Jason went back to glaring at the recipe in concentration when rather idly, Roy leaned down, craning his neck to nuzzle the crook of Jason's, parting his lips and giving him a little wet lick. Jason tried swatting him away with his hand like he was a mosquito, but the archer refused to relinquish his hold.

" _Stoppit_ ," Jason growled, trying his hardest to focus over his partner's shenanigans and whatever he was trying to achieve. Insult to injury, Roy kissed his ear softly and nibbled on the lobe of it while Jason proceeded to ignore, like the mother of a toddler, letting Roy have his fun without getting a reaction until he got bored and went in pursuit of a more interesting occupation to his time.

" _Jesus_ , have you got any idea how fucking annoying you are?" Jason snapped before long and Roy had known his tolerance wouldn't last a minute. Mischieviously, he grinned. Getting under Jason's skin was fun, no matter how you did it. It could really lighten the mood and that's exactly what he felt they both needed after everything.

" And you're ruining my concentration." Jason said, peeved, hands gripping the counter on both sides, white-knuckled, frowning hard at the mixing bowl and recipe before him that was making no sense to him today.  _Dammit_ , his head was hurting today. Maybe he was getting that fucking flu Dick had.

"Sorry, babe," Unapologetic, Roy sucked a bruise into the soft side of his throat. "I'm just keeping you company..."

"Go take a fucking shower, Roy." Jason's elbow thudded into his belly, enforcing an inch of distance. "You still haven't had one after last night."

"Okay, fine." Seeing he  _really_  wasn't open to it today, Roy sighed in reluctance when he agreed. He untangled his arms from around his boyfriend's middle, withdrawing them but as he did, turning Jason around by his hips to face him. Jason rotated willingly but the angles of his features, twisted slightly and testy, suggested he wasn't exactly pleased by Roy's theatrics. The corner of his lip twitched in a way that was barely noticeable. Roy was fully versed in how he wasn't truly angry, but Jason never humoured his little games.

Roy hadn't realised it at first, but Jason didn't look all that well and since the last thing he wanted was to add too that unwellness, Roy'd call off his attempts to peeve and mess with him.

"I'll leave you alone then?" He asked and Jason gave a small nod.

"Get washed, you're disgusting right now. Then come back, I need you to try this recipe those fucking liars at WikiHow are trying to trick me with."

Roy smiled a bit. Jason's response meant he wasn't as irritated as he'd initially feared.

"Okay," Roy gave him a light kiss, "I'll be right back."

"Don't hurry." Jason rolled his eyes when he turned back to his work surface. He exhaled deeply, forcefully, from the deepest depths of his lungs. 

Roy left the kitchen, he was on his way to the bathroom to have that shower Jason claimed he so desperately needed when a sudden sound gave him a start. It sounded like china shattering, shards spraying across the kitchen floor. Then silence.

" _Jay_?" Roy frowned, got no answer. "Babe, you alright?" He headed back the way he'd come, hurrying his steps up a bit in case Jason dropped something and hurt himself. Wouldn't be the first time he smashed dishes and got cut on the broken bits, and despite the lack of sound, Roy didn't think it was anything to worry about - he almost left it, but it made him uneasy - until he stepped through the kitchen door.

" _Jason-_!"

That ceramic bowl Jason'd been using to mix his pancake ingredients up in, lay in pieces, scattered over the floor after he dropped it, presumably when he  _collapsed_. On the ground, he was trembling and Roy rushed to gather him up, thinking initially that he electrocuted himself with how Roy's kitchen science meant the wiring was a bit  _iffy_ , but that assumption went to hell when he realised Jason wasn't simply  _shaking;_ he was  _seizing_ and violently so, as if an omnipotent force was oscillating and throwing him up and down. Thick milky foam, rich with bubbles, was brimming past his tightly set teeth. He was choking on it.

" _Babe!_ " Roy's eyes went up and down him rapidly, tongue darting panicky over his lip, holding his hands up before he knew where to put them. He laid both on Jason and rolled him over to his side, and in seconds Jason went from trembling to being wracked by inhuman jerks that were far beyond his control, and many,  _many_  times he hit Roy enough to bruise. Once, hard enough to make the archer jump back instinctively, away from the sudden source of his pain, thusly letting go of his partner and Jason's convulsing didn't mean he could stay balanced on his side by himself.

Roy wiped the blood trail from underneath his nose quickly on the back of his hand; Jason was hitting his head against the  _slate_  floor. Smack, smack, smack.

Roy grabbed a kitchen towel and slotted his hand behind Jason's neck, raising him,

"Gotta help me out here, Jay."

And slid the folded cloth underneath his head to spare him the broken skull. Jason wasn't unconscious like had been assumed; his eyes were wide and scared, expeditiously glancing to his surroundings for any clue as to what was happening to him. A quivering whimper came through those clamped teeth, unsteady and choked.

Roy knew he shouldn't hold or restrain a person during episodes like this, but he cupped Jason's face on both sides. Jason was not in control of a thing his body was doing and it terrified him to no end.

"It's okay, baby. You're okay. Don't fight it." That's right. He shouldn't. Jason would injure himself if he tried forcing the convulsions to cease.

"Keep breathing. Just keep breathing."

Hand shaking vigorously,  _forcibly_ , Jason - unable to form words, tried indicating to his jaw and gradually, Roy half understood what he meant. That thick fluid he was suffocating on was filling his cheeks and he couldn't get it out just through his teeth. His mouth was locked shut by the seizure.

Roy has read enough about seizures to be aware that he would have to be fucking Superman to, by any normal means, open Jason's mouth right now, when his mastication muscles pulling taut far exceeded his own strength as the aforementioned muscles were really fucking strong. He could lose a finger in the process or worse, hurt Jason. There was one method he knew of, however, but it would make him do that latter thing he was afraid of.  

But he needed to do something

"Hang on, honey," Against his seizing, Roy trailed his thumbs down the length of Jason's face, sliding into the dip of bone that was the hinge of his jaw, just behind his ears, and met his gaze for a beat. He didn't want to do this.

"This is gonna hurt."

The forewarning ended the second Roy pushed down, relentlessly on those pressure points, at once with both hands, the downward force constraining Jason's jaw open but prying into his joints wasn't painless for him; he winced and whimpered and broke Roy's heart while he did, because it was  _him_  who was hurting his partner. Tremors went through Roy with how much strength he actually needed to use before any results came in.

When there was half an inch of space between Jason's teeth, Roy carefully tipped his head to the side and poured the foam out its entrapment in his mouth, but he needed to keep his fingers wedged into him or undo what he just did. He tried his  _absolute_  hardest to ignore that those were real tears of pain in Jason's eyes.

Four minutes later, Jason's convulsing had calmed somewhat, but he kept shaking and wasn't in control of his muscles; they were incredibly stiff and kept jerking, though less spontaneously than previously. Roy had pulled him half into his lap and made sure he stayed on his side, the arm around him was loose, despite how Roy wanted to encase his partner tightly.

"R - R -  _Roy..._ " Jason whined insensibly, almost biting through his tongue in the effort and he could hardly speak with Roy forcing his joints to part.

"Baby, don't talk." Roy told him and continued running his free hand back through Jason's sweat-dampened hair, stroking it back, out of his face. Raspy, escalated bursts of air were escaping against Roy's skin; he could feel the fear behind them. His shaking was reverberating through both of them.

With small shushing noises to calm Jason, Roy stared at the kitchen wall, vacant, one singular thing going through his head.

What.  _The hell?_

When Jason was well enough, Roy made a beeline to find Bruce.

* * *

 

"You need-"

"I'm fine!"

"Jason - you had a  _seizure_."

"And that's  _none_  of your fucking business!"

Jason watched gingersnap all but chase Hood through the cave, while his doppelganger was trying to get away from him and his words of sound advice. Poor 'snap. The way Hood spoke to him sometimes, it reminded Jason of how Willis and Cathy interacted. It was genetic for him and Hood, to be like that, so he did wonder how  _that_  relationship would end. For ginger's sake, hopefully differently to Maroni cramming their skulls full of lead and it was  _quite_  unlikely they'd conceive a child who'd turn them in. 

So on that front, there was hope. 

Hood kept arguing, but since Roy wouldn't play the other part, he was yelling to deaf ears. Jason kept hoping Bruce would get down here soon. How could one phone call take so long?

"You could have been hurt really bad - or  _dead_." Roy kept trying with him and ignoring Jason's eyes on them, like they were the only people here. Jason was staring at the massive bruises dug into Hood's jaw, at the hinge, a testament to exactly how much force ginger needed to use to keep him from choking on foamed up saliva.

"And I'm fine now, so let's just forget it."

"Forget it? Jason, have you got any idea how fucking scary that was? I didn't know what was wrong with you an' I  _still_  don't."

"Do you go to the ER whenever you  _cough_?"

"That was a bit more than  _coughing_."

No pet names. They were on full, first name terms here. They always seemed to call one another by their made-up terms and nicknames. By Jason's observations, that meant this was bad.

Jason's hands rose and crept through his hair, tangling around locks of it and weighing down. The downward pull burned. Eyes fixed on the floor, Jason wanted to leave because he  _hated_  people arguing when he was in the room, strange as that seemed for  _him_. But he needed to stay and supervise unless Hood does something stupid. How could that be put past him?

"I  _don't_  need-"

" _Jesus_ , Jason, would you stop being stupid for  _one_  second?"

"Leave me alone,  _Roy_." Hood sprinted up the catwalk steps to the second floor, where the old suits were on display, and Jason found himself surveying them continue the argument from separate floors, as gingersnap wouldn't follow Hood up.

"I'm fucking fine, okay?" Hood glared. " That was a fluke an' it won't happen again."

"Until it  _does_."

"It  _won't_."

Jason was relieved when he heard Bruce's distinct steps descending the stairs. He would break this fight up just with his commanding aura. Both Roy and Hood must've heard them too because instantly, and Jason does mean  _instantly_ , they stopped quarrelling.  _Strange_...

"I just got off the phone with Dick." Bruce said, when he came down and he was as grim as Jason had ever seen him, telling enough on its own that something wasn't right. 

"He wasn't looking so hot yesterday." Roy interjected and he didn't sound at all pleased, but immensely troubled. "But not as bad as Jaybird."

"I'm  _fine_." Hood snapped at him and Jason wanted to slap him for it, because couldn't he see Roy was just  _worried_  about him? And after what happened, that was not misplaced. Stupid fucking idiot...

"No, you're  _not_ , Jason." Bruce told him and it came off as an order to make Hood believe he wasn't quite as dandy as he claimed to be. Leslie ran tests, all the usual things on Hood, and nothing came up. At this point, no one knew what was wrong with Hood and Dick, they were randomly sick but Hood seemed to have it the worst. Jason... Jason thinks he might have a suspicion, but by no means, did he want to voice it or for it to be real. Bruce would figure it out soon if he hadn't already, that is, so Jason keeping his suspicions to himself wasn't a long term solution in any way, shape, or form.

"Bruce, he just started seizing and he couldn't breathe..." Roy went over it again, at Bruce's request, for the hundredth time and when he did, Jason could see in his pretty green eyes, just how much it scared him what happened. And he was scared it would happen again. He really didn't like the gingersnap who was scared or worried. It didn't suit him. 

And it was especially bad when Jason knows,

"Guys..." Jason quietly said. "..... What if it's something to do with me still being here?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter wrote itself on the backs of all the maravilloso support the last chapter got, and I wanna personally thank Anrim, diamondheartwarrior, odd_izzy, NathanLewis, Kurenai_Tenka, stylesofstraight_edge, breakingMachines, Lovingjaybirds, oxymoron1813, RandomReader13, pudding_bretzel, CaePenn, IStanACrowbarVictim, redhoodwillalwaysbeabatkid, mimi, Takashi, Reggie_live101, I_live_for_this, and daemoninwhite (that was a mouthful!), for the amazing feedback from the last chapter and a thanks to all the wonderful silent readers out there too! You guys, you're seriously amazing, my sweet-faces.


	20. Burning Buildings and Sinking Ships

"I mean, I could have  _easily_  killed Hood, then he almost gets knifed by Zsasz, then gets knifed by Dick, then he almost gets knifed by Dick again, then he breaks his head open on the roof, and now he tries to kill himself on his kitchen floor like a fucking spastic.  _Clearly_ , this dimension is trying to correct there being two of us here." The Knight explained the hypothesis his fucked up head somehow brewed and Jason was  _not_  convinced.

"Shouldn't it be gunning for  _you_?" He asked with some stone cold scepticism. " _You_  don't belong here." That follow-up interjection was a little harsher than need was, but after the Knight's outing with Bruce, where they appeared to have established a deeper understanding, Jason had to keep him reminded of the world order.

"The dimension obviously knows you're the weak bitch here." The Knight was none the more passive than Jason was when he replied.

" _Excuse_  me? I took down the whole of fucking Arkham asylum."  _Unlike you, who was kept there for over a year_ , Jason wanted to add, but he could put the brakes on when even  _he_  knew that was a nautical mile too far.

"So you beat up a bunch of mentally unwell people in straight jackets? Nice job, Hood,  _nice_.  _Job_."  _Bitch_. The Knight finished that comment with a slow and sarcastic clap to drive home each word. He and Jason interlocked gazes and the slow burn of how much they despised the other lingered out in the open.

"Could you two  _please_  stop fighting for one goddamn  _minute_?" Roy was... Roy was  _not_  pleased, but the blunt force of his irritation was directed at Jason and Jason knew that. He had to be so fucking all-knowing, didn't he? Yeah, Jason realises what happened was bad, but he also had no desire to be under constant supervision and be handled with silken gloves just because of someone's damn concern.

" _Anything_  for you, babycakes." With a wink, AK smiled alluringly to Roy and Jason almost tore his fucking throat out for that gesture, tone  _and_  wording. The jerk was deliberately doing his god-all to wedge himself under Jason's skin, so he just  _had_  to keep hitting on Roy, didn't he? And wasn't he  _straight_?

" _Jason_." This time it was Bruce who told the Knight off and was the only one who succeeded in shutting his gob. Did he really listen to Bruce on the first go? Jason  _hated_  how lovey-dovey they suddenly were.  _This is fucking terrible._

Bruce inhaled deeply, calmingly, to get his thoughts in order before he went any further with their initial topic.

"We need to run some test, before we make any decisions. While that's going on, Jason, I do not want either of you leaving this mansion," He pointed between Jason and his doppelganger, allowing no room to argue.

"Dick is coming here later, Tim is with the Titans where they can watch him, in case anything similar happens to them."

"But my version of Timbo was only here once," AK said, rather quiet, as opposed to his previously obnoxious tone. "An' I drowned Richard in a cement pit-"

"Fuck's sake, crazy!" Jason exclaimed before Roy could clamp a hand over his mouth. "You told him?! We fucking agreed not to!" From what he had observed, the Knight wasn't overly fond of raised voices and Jason's pitch made him jump an inch or two in fright, but he got over it reputably fast.

"Bitch, if you don't shut the hell up-" He raised his fist to hit Jason and Jason would have full on hit him back, if they both hadn't heard the subtle crackle of electricity, catching their attention to Roy's direction. The archer held a taser, pressing down on the switch, pale blue currents buzzing at the mouth of it. This would be the first time Roy ever looked unnerving.

"This is your last warning. Both yours."  _Okay_ , threatening but convincing enough to step back.

"Sorry, gingersnap-"

"His name is Roy." Jason snapped, then when the zapping of the taser sounded louder, called it off. Biting his lip in annoyance, Jason turned stiffly on his heel, back to Bruce and his fists tightened enough to crack, knuckles shining white through his skin. He should fake another seizure just to get rid off his fucking counterpart all the faster. He's sure Bruce wouldn't be so forgiving if it was him who murdered Dick. But  _noooo_ , his special snowflake Arkham Knight was  _misunderstood_  and he didn't mean it....

"Like I was saying," AK continued with a snapshot leer toward Jason, one which he returned. "Bruce, could that one time Tim was actually here affect your version of the kid? And Dick is dead, but he's still here...."

"Tim should be fine, but it's a precaution that he stay with the Titans." Bruce answered, already doing something on his computer. Probably running those aforementioned tests, whatever that entailed.

"And Dick, I don't expect he'll suffer to Jason's extent, given how his counterpart is dead and has spent a fraction of your time here." Great. Great AK was singled out and Bruce was talking mostly to him, while Jason spent some quality time in being pushed aside. He was glaring at the ground, quite certain he was foaming at the mouth for non-seizure related reasons.

"But if it is the dimension trying to correct itself, as you said, Jason," Again, it was AK being referred to. Stupid bitch.

"Then Dick will experience some symptoms of it. Fatigue, for the most part, I would expect, but I want to monitor him, in case it worsens."

"B," Jason spoke up and he really hated that secondarily, Bruce's attention went to his identical. Why did their voices have to match to the T?

"If that's what this is, what do we do?"

"Then," Bruce sighed, he wasn't pleased at all by any of this. "We need to collect everything that doesn't belong in this universe and send it back before we're dealing with more than seizures and sickness."

AK lowered his gaze to the floor, the vibe coming off him so blatantly full of dread that Jason couldn't find the right mind to mock him right then.

Not long after, Bruce could confirm the theory and Jason saw something in his counterpart's heart drop in dismay. It was inevitable, they all knew it, right? That AK couldn't stay in their dimension? Jason had been hoping for this conclusion in secret, but Bruce didn't like it, as if he didn't want the Knight returning to where he came from. Why? The nut would be fine, surely.

That aside, it went without saying, that they had a lot to do now. Dig the body up from the centre of a busy construction yard, open an inter-dimensional gateway, and somehow wrestle the Knight back to his home.

The latter, Jason felt, would be the hardest.

* * *

 

**"Aw, well this isn't fair now, is it, pumpkin?"**

**" ~~No Bruce to protect you back home, little wing...~~ "**

**"And no gingerbread boy..."**

**" ~~And you're a wanted criminal; Tim knows to arrest you when he sees you. Or shoot you, if you put up a fight, and you will...~~."**

**"Not to mention all those baddies who'd looooveee to get their hands on you, kiddo. Shouldn't've ticked 'em off!"**

**" ~~And you'll be all alone with just the voices in your pretty screwed up head~~..."**

**"Ooh, not looking too good, baby birdie. Too bad your twinsie is sickly 'cause of you!"**

**" ~~Technically speaking, this is~~** ~~**_all_ ** ~~ **~~your fault. Everything~~."**

**"And when they throw you back home, all those promises Brucie made 'let's fix this!' and 'I'll protect you!' will all be meaningless."**

**" ~~You'd stand to gain much more by staying here, Jay. Much, _much_ more."~~**

**"Too bad you can't - oh, but maybe there is a way?!"**

**"** ~~**_Really_ ** ~~ **~~, Joker? _What_~~?"**

**"Hoodsie is sick, which is why everybody wants to toss baby birdie back where he's from.... Now, he wouldn't be sick and there'd be no problem..."**

**"..... ~~If he was dead. Then you could stay here, little wing~~."**

_"Please don't do anything bad."_

* * *

 

At Bruce's instruction, they were staying at the manor and Roy spent the most of the night without sleeping, his arm around Jason despite their current rocky airspace, hand lightly curled around his throat, pressing on his pulse to make  _sure_  it stayed there. The soft beat humming through Jason's veins had always been a comfort to Roy, soothing as any lullaby to know there was life at hand's reach, someone he loved, only now insomnia struck its recorded hardest when he dreaded the daunting moment where that rhythmic beating would skip a turn, then another, and a third, a fourth, and then not come back. At all.

Yes, Jason loudly denied anything was wrong with him but how the fuck did he pass a seizure as bad as the one he had, as a fluke? Because he was shaken up over it and didn't want anyone to know that. But Roy knew, and Jason's conduct of dishonesty was getting him nowhere.

Roy hadn't come near Jason until he was asleep. With how pissed off he was, it wouldn't have been possible until then. Sue Roy for being worried about his boyfriend, who just had a massive seizure that could have potentially been fatal.  _Sue. Him_. Jason could be moody and sulk all he wanted, Roy wasn't going to bother apologising like he would if there was a valid reason behind this.

But still, even with Jason's irrational snappiness and irritability, Roy was going to keep an eye on him because  _some_  of them weren't petty children. Although he partially understood the reason Jason got defensive like earlier, it didn't make him easy to deal with.

Roy dropped off in one instance, he didn't remember it happening but it must have since he woke up sometime in the middle of the night. He mentally kicked himself for closing his eyes and immediately checked on Jason's still form beside him. Roy audibly breathed out a small sigh of relief when he was greeted with a light pumping when touching Jason's neck. He did  _not_  want his partner having another seizure and dying on him.

And then, Roy slowly became more and more aware of there being a third party in the room, standing off to the corner, silent but the weight of their presence was enough to detect. Roy's gaze sidled to his left and met widely staring blue eyes.

"... What are you doing here, AK?" Roy tried to sound calm but it was actually really creepy, the way Jason's doppelganger was standing in the shadowy corner, just....  _Looking_  at them. And God knows how long he'd been there.

"I..." The Knight mumbled then shook his head as if spellbound by an unseen force.

"I was... Watching you."

"I could tell." Roy carefully sat up, mindful not to wake Jason, and propped himself up on his arms to get a better look at the Knight, but mostly only made out the intense hue of his eyes and the moonlight glinting off parts of his suit, his guns, most notably.... Why was he wearing his suit?

"You okay, Jason?" Roy asked, cautious. Just from this second or two of interaction, there was something gravely unsettling about the Knight and his mannerism and it made Roy want to instinctively reach for the gun he knew his Jason had on him.  _Stop it. You're being irrational, everything is fine._

"Yeah...." AK responded like it shouldn't have been a question.

"Any chance you can tell me why you're really here?" There was no break in tension when the Knight came closer. Closer, perhaps, than Roy would have liked him. He knelt by his bedside and proceeded to stare. If Roy had thought there was something strange about him before, then this close-up confirmed it. God, his eyes were wide and while not exactly emotionless, there was something difficult to define about them.

"... Jay?" Roy pressed himself into the headboard when the Knight extended a hand, delicately tracing his fingers over the thin knife mark across Roy's throat, as if deep in thought. He looked distant to every definition of the word and didn't say anything, motioning his hand over the barely visible cut, then retreating it, and running it over again like it was a track that controlled his movement. He pressed his index and middle finger next to the hinge of Roy's jaw, feeling his pulse. Confused, Roy let him, even when he pushed higher and raised his chin a little painfully.

"...I could have killed you." AK murmured, to himself it sounded like, when he finally pulled his arm back to himself and spoke up. It was like a distant recollection, what he was saying.

"You almost did." Trying to see his angle for this odd and mildly threatening appearance of his, Roy eyed him but nothing revealing was on display. The Knight wrapped his hand around his own wrist as if feeling for something. He mumbled a string of words too low and insensible to make out.

"What did you say?" Roy asked, didn't know if he should. Those dazing blue eyes interlocked on him again when he spoke. Jason tapped rigidly on his temple.

"They think I should kill Hood." Jason said, disturbingly alright about it and immediately, he made Roy stiffen in defensiveness, until he continued, that is,

"But Bruce told me not to listen to them..... I don't think they're right."

"Well... no. Jason, killing someone isn't going to correct what's happening right now." Roy tried explaining to him and was replied to with a half-hearted and unsure shrug, then a soft sigh. A sigh of..... disappointment. Killing had always been the easy route for Jason, restraint was where the difficulty came in.

"I don't want to go back home." Jason went on, like a hopeless child silently pleading against the inevitable. Roy felt his sympathies shifting again, going from that natural protectiveness just seconds ago to understanding the problem in its entirety. Roy crossed his legs and leaned forward, closer to AK so talking in low voices carried enough to hear. He didn't want to wake his partner, since how was he going to explain the Knight creeping into their bedroom in the middle of the night before Jason jumped to the obvious conclusions?

"You know we aren't going to just toss you through a wormhole, don't you? We're gonna make sure everything's okay."

AK didn't hear him and his words of assurance. "Tim and Barbara hate me, and they're the only people left that I know there. Unless you count Slade."

" _Don't_  count Slade." He was stern. "And Tim and Babs don't hate you, they sent us that message to warn us about Dick, didn't they? I happen to recall them mentioning something like 'stop Dick before he hurts Jason'." Roy attempted to convince him, and though that breakdown may have meant something to Jason, it didn't lift the weight.

Roy thought of the next best thing,

"And I exist there too, don't I?" Jason nodded. "Unless I'm a complete asshole, hit me up. It's not like you can't make any friends there."

"I've only met you a couple times, as Robin." Jason ran his hands through his hair, strands sticking pointedly from between his fingers. "And I think you'd be scared of me. Or... well, the Knight."

Roy gestured with his thumb to his still partner. "I'm  _terrified_  of him and we can function."

He heard Jason smile a bit, but he didn't come off as any happier or genuine. "He's not a total nutcase, though. He's scary 'cause he wants to be, I scare people even if I don't want to." Damn, that was a depressing but not untrue statement.

"The right people won't be scared of you." Then when he said that, his Jaybird stirred to his right and captured his attention momentarily, but he didn't wake up and when Roy looked back to the other, he wasn't in the room any longer. The door was parted, leaving nothing but a dull glow of light creeping in through the hallway.

Roy was.... Roy was gonna miss Jason's double when he had to go and he couldn't help but worry about him once he was back where he came from.

* * *

 

Gingersnap's words echoing in his mind, almost louder than the cacophony of voices, Jason trudged through the dark hall, running his hand along the wall as if in a trance. He needed to go back or Hood could die, and if Bruce was right (and he always was), then that would only be the start of the shit his mere existence could cause. But Jason didn't want to go back and he  _didn't_  like Hood enough to save his life.

**" ~~Funny how all you have to do is wake up and you're at risk of destroying an entire universe, isn't it~~?"**

Why? Why just when a silver lining formed, it was all ripped away from him? If he said no, if he did his god-all to avoid returning home, then Bruce would drop the passive approach and do what needed to be done. If he killed Hood and made himself the only Jason Todd of this universe, he still wouldn't be helping himself because he'd lose everything he'd gained anyway. Bruce wouldn't take so kindly to him offing another of his sons and it would hurt gingersnap. Break him. If Jason vanished now, again, nothing to gain and they'd only hunt him down. His mere existence was enough to put everyone in harm's way.

Fan-fucking-tastic. He should have just died a long time ago and saved everyone this trouble.

**"Well, this is certainly kicking it a notch closer to newfound lows."**

**"J ~~esus, Jay, I've never seen you this miserable~~."**

_"Going home might not be as bad as you think."_

"Can the three of you just shut the fuck  _up_?" Jason demanded, agitated he couldn't even use his own head space to think and have silence. He was, in fact, so distracted by them that he walked right into something with a crash. No, not something,  _someone_ , they both gave a surprised noise to go with the thud. Instinctively, Jason caught the person by their forearm before they lost their footing, but upon seeing who it was, barely stopped himself from kicking them through the wall.

Dick Grayson.  _Why_  was he  _here_?!

"Damn, Jay," Dick rubbed the sore spot on his cheekbone, his face had hit a part of Jason suit. There was already a bruise there, over his sickly pale skin.

"Watch where you're...." Dick's eyes landed on his brand, widening and an understanding coming alight into them.

"....  _Oh_." It was clear he was dumbstruck, at an utter loss for words as to what to say. Time to think wasn't something Jason gave him, his hand surged around Dick's throat and in the same fluid movement, pinned him into the wall with a crash, his feet dangling above the ground.

"J -  _Jay_!" Dick choked that out, fingers wrapped around Jason's wrist and they both knew there were ten different ways he could escape. But he didn't and wouldn't, not unless this got desperate.

"Why did you come here?" Voice quivering with how angry this face made him, Jason demanded through his teeth. It was a stupid question when he knew exactly why Dick was here but he still asked it.

**"Kill him! Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!"**

_"Jason, don't-"_

**" ~~Do it, little wing! Remember what I did to you~~?"**

Jason squeezed around that rapid beat of life in Dick's throat, felt him gulp against his palm, and he wanted to so badly crush his windpipe and hear him gasping through the splintered, caved-in mush.

But then he dropped Dick, back onto his feet and turned slightly away, hands in his pockets and looking down the hall. He pressed his tongue into his cheek in thought.

Rubbing his throat, Dick coughed out,

" _Jesus_ , you're strong." That was his bad arm that he used. "Thanks for not killing me." Jason wanted to. He really wanted to.

**"Do it! Do it! Kill him!"**

**" ~~Murder me, Jason! Murder me again! Fucking god, do you have any idea how~~** ~~_**hot** _ ~~ **~~that was~~?"**

Jason's fingers tightened around his wrist, against his pulse, and he repeated what Bruce told him through his head.  _They're not real. They can't do anything. They're dead._

_"We're not real. We're all dead...."_

"You okay, Jay?" Dick inquired and Jason parted his eyes after not remembering he ever closed them and glared at Dick, teeth bared.

"I'm fine."  _Don't talk to me._  Yes, this may not be the murderous psychopath who tormented him through early teens, but it was difficult to get over that face when he had associated it with pain and humiliation so many times now.

"Uhm...." Unsure, Dick looked over his current state, like a cornered aggressive dog. "Should I get Bruce?"

"Please  _don't_." Jason may as well get himself weaned from his newly acquired taste for his father's support. It wouldn't be available to him for long, distancing himself would numb the blow.

"B said little wing wasn't feeling so awesome 'cause of dimensional disturbances," Dick said, sugar coating with that last part a big old because of  _you_.

"I was coming to check that you were feeling okay since it might affect you too."

" _You_  came to check on  _me_?" Jason cocked a sceptical brow, and this all made sense when Dick followed up with,

"Bruce sent me." Of  _course_ , he did.

"Well, as you can see, I haven't spazzed out yet." Jason was very passive aggressive and some might say, defensive. They mighten not be wrong.

"Yeah, I can see." Jason told himself it was a completely innocent gesture of analysis when Dick's eyes swept over him, but he  _hated_  it.

"Stop that." Jason said -  _ordered_. Dick adopted an expression of confusion.

"Stop what?"

"Looking at me. I don't trust you when you do."

For a moment, Dick thought on what his reasoning could be, and perhaps someone filled him in on everything that happened because he seemed to remember his counterpart's...  _Obsession_.

"Jay, I'm not doing...  _That_. I - I mean, your double's my little brother, I'd never... Think of him -  _you_  -  _either_  of you, like.. Uhm.."

Jason tilted his head in regard to Dick, wondering where that reputable silver tongue had gone. He couldn't help the slip of a sudden cynical grin. Seeing Dick Grayson stammer was a new one.

"You're not good at talking here, are you, Richard?"

"Oh, uh," Dick smiled awkwardly, showing those pearly teeth. "I - I just don't really... Know what to say..."

"Then don't say anything." Jason approached him and when he didn't stop nearing, Dick's instinctive steps in regard backed him into the wall. Jason was taller than him, he enjoyed the way Dick needed to tip his head back to meet his gaze when they were this close.

"What're you - what're you  _doing_?" Dick stumbled for words, persisting with that pretty abashed smile despite how uncomfortable with their close quarters he clearly was. Good. Jason was getting huge quantities of satisfaction from Dick being the one of them who was squirming in his skin because of something  _he_  was doing.

" _Jason_ -"

Jason snatched Dick's chin, roughly between his finger and thumb, tugging his lips apart; the breath through Dick's teeth was a soft grunt of pain.

"You like  _that_?" Jason asked, now hissing; he applied more pressure.

"Like getting your face grabbed and nails sunken into it?" Jason turned his thumb, cutting with the crescent of his nail through the first layer of Dick's perfect flesh.

~~**"Mmm, this is a dream come true!"** ~~

"Ja - Jason, l - let me go." Dick moved his arm to push Jason away from him, only to have his wrist captured and slammed into the wall bruisingly.

"No. No, I'm not going to let you go. Not  _yet_ , at least." Jason dropped his voice to that same low tone that Dick always used on him when roles were reversed.

"What is it that you like about holding people like this, huh? You don't seem to enjoy it very much."

"Jason, I-"

 **"- ~~Am gonna put a~~** ~~**batarang** ~~ **~~through you again~~!"**

" _No._ " Jason thrust his head back against the wall, restraining from his full strength, that would have cracked his  _brother's_  skull.

" _I'm_  talking to you now, Dick, so  _listen_ ," Jason pressed harder. "You made everything fucking hell for me for years and then I killed you and you  _still_  won't fucking leave me  _alone_.  _Why_?" 

"I was only coming to check on you." Dick struggled to say past his jaw being pried open. He wasn't defenceless. He wasn't helpless. Why hadn't he sent Jason through a wall already,  like they both knew he could even in this situation?

"Not  _this_  you." Jason pushed him deeper into the wall, upright against it by now. He let go of Dick's wrist just long enough to jab himself rigidly in the temple with his finger. Dick... somehow, he understood what Jason wasn't saying with only the indication.

"You hear my voice now, too?" Dick shifted against the restraining grip on him, didn't wait to hear the response before he removed Jason's hand on his face and Jason took a step back, relinquishing his hold only to see what the other might do.

"Let me go get Bruce, Jay." Gently, he said, as if he cared.

" _Don't_."

"He'll be able to help-"

"Not for long!" Jason barked, didn't mean to lash out like that but before he could put a damper over the emotion, it burst out. Dick took that like a slap to the face, his eyes widened but he was never wordless long. Jason sighed, running his hand through his hair. That was too much to show Dick.

"So  _that's_  what this is about?" Dick inquired, a new apprehension sounding. "You're afraid of being alone again?"

" _No_." Jason grunted past his set teeth. "I'm not fucking  _afraid_  of anything."

"Of course not, Jason.  _But_... say you were, abandonment wouldn't be an irrational fear. I mean, you've had some issues with that in the past-"  

"You don _'t_  know me and I  _do not_  have fucking  _abandonment_  issues."  

" _I_  have abandonment issues, they aren't anything to be ashamed of, Jay." Dick kept persisting in his typical 'I must save everyone!' method and Jason wasn't having it. He shouldered past him, continued down the hall with a gruff,

"I don't need a damn shrink." That wasn't true by any means, he knew it. Jason needed an army of mental professionals just to crack the surface of his ocean of problems, but he didn't want Dick Grayson giving him a  _therapeutic_  and  _inspiring_  talking to.

"Just stay away from me, Grayson."

Jason left him and wisely, Dick didn't come after him and fuck knows where he went after that, but Jason,  _he_  climbed onto the roof of Wayne mansion and sat on the edge of it, watching the horizon and the many city lights until they began to dim to early morning's first rays of sunshine. He was dissociated for most of his time on the ridge pole, going through everything in his head until it was an insensible jumbled mess with no certain conclusion. 

_"What are you gonna do?"_

"I dunno." Jason mumbled, staring through half closed and narrowed eyes at Wayne Tower, that imposing rise against the distance, watching absently as night became dawn and streaks of soft pastel colour ran across the heavens, like the stretch marks of an ever-expanding distance between him and whatever lay beyond. 

_"You have to go back."_

Jason didn't answer.

_"Not just because people will get hurt if you don't, but.... this isn't our world, it just looks like it. Staying here is just running from your problems, like when you avoided going home when you knew Willis and Cathy were fighting."_

"People abandon burning houses and sinking ships all the time," While he said that, Jason dug a cigarette from his pocket and took it between his lips, searching for his lighter in the compartments of his belt.

"What's your point?"

_"This isn't a sinking ship, anymore. It crashed into the rocks, tore a hole in its hull, the crew can patch it up and save everyone, but only if they go below deck."_

"Intriguing analogy." Jason found it. He found his lighter and struck the flint, dipping the head of the cig in the small orange flame that arose. He inhaled, drawing nicotine directly into his lungs and kept it there for ten seconds before he blew out a puff of ash-grey smoke. Even the smoke looked miserable, drifting apart in tangles that quickly faded into nothing. 

_"It's not like you'll be completely alone there. Tim and Babs wouldn't have gone through all that trouble to warn you about Dick if they didn't want to help you."_

"You  _really_  need to shut up now, Robin." Jason curtly told him. He didn't need childish optimism and the false hopes that kid could never let go of. He needed to  _think_.

_"I'm just trying to help-"_

"You.  _Can't_  help anyone." Jason raked his fingers through his hair, gripping strands and pulling. His teeth ground together. " _Remember_? You're not helping me, you couldn't even help  _yourself_ , so shut up and fuck off." 

_"Jason..."_

"Joker, Dick, sic him." When Robin wouldn't listen, Jason said, scalp burning as he tugged at strands of his hair and took another drag, shorter this time. Fucking delusions, couldn't ever let him think for himself.

 **"Hehehe, gladly, pumpkin! Robin..."** Joker's creepy sing-song voice came to play.  **"Come mess around..."**

_"N - no. D - don't-"_

~~**"There's nowhere you can run, little wing. Space is limited when you're a fictitious auditory hallucination."** ~~

Jason waited and he listened to whatever skirmish the voices were having to die down on the last breath of a wicked cackle, then silence. It wouldn't last long, he was aware, just long enough for his imaginative monsters to do what they wanted to that idiotic Robin. He was hoping they would drag it out and give him at least an hour of no disturbance, but that was a big ask.

Jason had to go back. Denial aside, he knew that. Still...

" _There_  you are." 

Sighing, Jason reached for his gun when he heard Hood's voice appear behind him, and the sound of the roof window closing. Great. He got rid of one annoyance, only to be afflicted by a cancerous tumour. 

"I've been looking for you." Hood said, sounded irritated, and came closer, boots tapping lightly on the slate tiles. 

Jason ignored him and raised the cigarette back to his lips, drinking in the sweet poisons it had to offer. He hoped Hood fell to the ground and broke his legs and his stupid fucking face. His moronic counterpart came right up to him and stopped a foot away, waves of agitation coming off him.  _That_  and vanilla Pepsi, they had in common.

"I want to talk to you." Hood waited for the blink of an eye for a reply before he added a heartfelt, "I  _cannot wait_  to be rid of you." 

Jason didn't respond in any way. 

"You've fucking caused enough trouble..." Hood continued to deaf ears, as Jason's attention remained concentrated on anything but him. The sky, the clouds, the cig, the roof,  _anything_.

"Might even be able to make something in my own fucking kitchen without spazzing out because of you." It was getting a bit far as to what Hood was willing to bring into this, just to incite a reaction from Jason. What did he actually want? 

"And  _maybe_ -"

"Could you  _please_  leave me alone, Hood?" Jason asked him and there was an undertone of wounded frustration to his voice. He almost dropped the cigarette when his eyes snapped to Hood's so quickly, trying to burn holes into him with how intensely he was capable of glaring.

"I  _don't_  want to do this with you today." 

"Yeah?" Hood was equally as irritated at Jason as Jason was at him, so why did he drop down next to him and snatch the cig, taking an inhale himself? He was up to something....

"I don't want to do this either, but here I am." The Knight watched as Jason blew a smoke ring, and Jason gazed at it as it disintegrate near immediately.  He let a minute pass them by before he said a word.

"Believe it or not, I get you."

"You  _get_  me?" The Knight arched a brow with a smirk. "Oh, how meaningful. Keep saying sweet shit like that and you might win my heart over."   _Jerk_. Jason immediately regretted that he ever came up here to talk to him and thought about shoving him off the roof just to see if he could catch himself. But  _no_. Roy told him to be passive when he was caught looking for his doppelganger, which meant avoiding temptation as the Lord intended. 

"I told you, didn't I? From the beginning, that you couldn't stay here." 

"Yeah, when I had you roped to a chair inside Arkham. That was fun." Funny. AK's sarcastic tone failed him there, as soon as it came up again that this couldn't be permanent. From the corner of his eye, Jason observed him and that ugly brand burned into his face.

"I was dead, y'know, AK." Jason said, starting something similar to what he wished someone would have once told him.

"I've heard. Shame you didn't stay that way."

"Then Talia al Ghul revived me with the Lazarus Pit."

" _Rad_."

"And when I woke up, I was fucking pissed because I was replaced and Joker was alive.... I think my total body count over the first few years is...." Jason narrowed his eyes a fraction, thinking back. "... Somewhere high up in the hundreds. For the longest time, it was just me and my grudges and Bruce tried helping, but I just slapped him away. I shot Tim, threw Dick through a number of walls and windows, and was generally just an ass."

"The improvement you've made since then makes paint drying look fast." 

"But  _eventually_ ," Jason went on, doubting he was getting anywhere with this conversation. "I met some people who could stand me; Roy, this smokin' hot alien chick called Kory-"

"I know who Starfire is."

 _Damn_ , his constant interruptions were annoying. Jason drew another breath of nicotine, repeating the mantra keep going, keep going,  _do not_  let him win just because he's fucking annoying.

"The time before I was acquainted with them was kinda my version of what you're currently going through, just an angry angst ball with subterranean phobias. I found my own people, pulled my shit together, no reason you can't when you get back home."

"Total offence, bitch," The Knight pursed his lips, "but I don't need your inspiring speeches of how I can better myself with family,  _love_ , sugar, spice and everything nice."  

" _Fine_." Jason blew his cheeks out in frustration when he stood again, rising to his feet and looking down at his counterpart, still staring off to nothing. He had one last trick to try.

"Not like an inept mongrel like you would actually  know how to do anything but mope." 

The Knight didn't look at him but said, "Don't make me paralyse you again." 

" _Again_?" Jason scoffed. "Bitch,  _please_ , I was taking a nap." 

"Don't push me, I  _will_  kill you and this time you'll stay dead."

Jason didn't heed his warning, kept instigating. "Try me. I could beat you half spastic on my kitchen floor." The Knight's restraint snapped and he too, rose, turning in a slow circle to face Jason.

"Which one of our various fights told you that? Cause correct me if I'm wrong, you've lost all of them." That hint of displeasure he'd had before in his voice had faded a bit, back to his unbearable sarcastic, gaudy self.

Jason tipped his head, grinned, and cracked his knuckles. "I think you're confused, I fucking beat you at the construction yard."

"That's because gingersnap came to save you."

"Oh, just stop talking and let me beat your ass already." With a final smirk, Jason ran at his double, jumping on the last step of his sprint to kick the Knight's head off his shoulders, or something like that, only to have his leg captured by two quickly-closing hands. He heard AK laugh wickedly with the air whooshing through his hair when he was spun in an axis thrice around the Knight before he let go and sent Jason across the roof. He caught himself, on his hands, flipping back onto his feet before his face could become one with his footing, and that was hardly a save since it gave his foe a second of time to appear a foot away. Jason ducked under his swung arm, tried kicking him again, failed, and it went on like that. 

They continued on sparring and Jason was quite aware this wasn't smart for him to do, not with yesterday's incident laying fresh on his mind, so he was careful; he avoided the edges of the roof and stuck to reacting instead of acting. He got the idea that the Knight was thinking that too, since he was clearly pulling his punches and be it intentional or not, he didn't once throw Jason anywhere near the edge. In regard, Jason avoided his right arm.

"Bruce says it might take a little while to get a portal to your dimension," Jason said, idly, in between dodging a number of kicks like it was nothing.

"Don't forget we gotta dig up Dick's corpse." The Knight added, less happy when he was again reminded he couldn't stay here. He almost had Jason in a headlock there, if Jason hadn't elbowed him to barely any effect; he was still wearing his iron-plated armour.

"That's gonna be fucking fun."  

But things never go right for Jason, do they? He messed up a backflip, wrong angling, sluggish reflexes and a bout of sudden dizziness meant he flunked the landing too; his side hit the slate tiling pretty hard and as if that wasn't enough, he wasn't fast enough to grab hold of anything that could save him the four storey fall. Fuck. 

AK caught him. AK fucking  _caught_  him, fingers locked around his wrist almost quicker than Jason could register he ever fell. In almost the same movement, his counterpart pulled him back onto the roof with a simple mocking,

"Told you you're shit at this."

Jason didn't comment on that one, not past his attempts to not throw up when nausea took hold in an instant, not making it any easier to stay upright next to the dizziness.  He'd gone rigid again and tiny trembles were making their way through him.  _No_.  _No, no, no... Not this again._

"Hood...? You... alright?" The Knight was hesitant to ask when it was so out of his initial nature to care, but he proved the interpretation of him wrong when he grabbed Jason's arm and looped it over his shoulders, balancing Jason against himself when the light-headedness got worse by a lot. They began walking back to the roof window they used as an entry point.

"Let's go find Bruce," AK said, to which Jason nodded rapidly, biting on his lip while all the colour drained from his face. Dammit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, kinda of a slower, filler chapter here, going through the motions, which I believe we all needed, before we get on with the shit again. I'm trying to finish this story before my next term starts, so wish me luck!


	21. See You Soon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dearest Anrim, whom I know gets uncomfortable with hugs, this is a warning to you, friend, that there are a few of those on the horizon XD

"It's 1877, one of the best books of all time was sold by the author to a publishing company called Jarrold and Sons for _only_ twenty dollars. What is the book's name?"

" _Uhm_...." Roy regarded the Knight in some confusion. "Famous Five?"

"No, you _dolt_. Black Beauty." Like it was a personal offence, Jason glared at him. "Who wrote Sense and Sensibility?"

 _That_ , Roy, did know. Sitting through his partner's debates on fictional works while he cooked was finally paying off. 

"Jane Austen." He replied, happy with himself for actually getting that one right but to no validation from Jason. Instead, he went on with this literary pop-quiz of his.

"What was unique about its publishing?" Jason didn't wait for the answer Roy wouldn't be able to give, no matter how much time he had. "Miss Austen wrote it in the 1790s but published it over twenty years later, in 1811, after revisiting and heavily editing it." 

"Jay... not that I mind, but why are you going all angry college professor on me?" Roy asked as he straightened, leaning on the handle of his spade while he stood the pit they'd dug. Midnight, they had to covertly uncover their murder victim and Jason wanted to talk about classic novels. 

Jason didn't look at him or answer when he pulled chunks of broken asphalt from the grave. They _had_ to bury the body in cement, didn't they? God, the two of them had been at this for an hour and barely gotten half a meter deep. It would be faster if they weren't doing this by hand, but machinery would attract attention they didn't need. 

"Because you're stupid." Jason finally grumbled, moody and gruff and Roy was wondering why both Jasons had to sulk at random intervals. His partner was pissed because Bruce made him stay at the cave while they did this and his counterpart was angry at Roy's lack of fluency when it came to post 21st-century literature.  He couldn't win.

"Okay...." Roy did a bit more towards breaking the thick grey cast. "Any other reason?"

"How do you change someone's eye colour from blue to green?" Jason abruptly asked. "Like, _naturally_."

The archer paused what he was doing to glance at him. He didn't trust that question. 

"You can't." You probably can. Anything was possible with modern science, but AK didn't need to know that, just in case he was entertaining a plan. Next question would probably be how to make scars go away and something in relation to acting classes. Jason wasn't as inconspicuous as he thought.      

"Pity." Muttering, Jason resumed their work. He was awfully bipolar today for apparently no outstanding reason he would voice. He'd been snappy with Bruce, too, and Roy thinks it's because both Jasons had this strange mind state where they thought leaving things on a bad note made detachment easier.  

" _There_ ," Jason indicated to a ragged piece of black kevlar, peeking from between the bits of crumbling stone. Breathing out, Roy wiped beads of sweat off his brow, relieved to see there was more attached to the material. He didn't know why, but he'd half suspected Dick to not be in this grave they made, and instead roaming the streets somewhere. Impossible but something he'd still spent time being paranoid over.

"Be careful," Roy instructed, to which a dismissive huff was his response. Jason cleared enough rubble to grab hold of Dick's arm. Wrapping both hands around his wrist, Jason pulled, putting all his considerable strength behind it while Roy watched on in concern. Minutes in, the body wasn't budging from its entrapment, but its joints were cracking and popping from sockets. The archer should have said something, told Jason to stop and they'd try another way, until something gave and by several meters, Jason was thrown onto his back. 

Groaning, Jason sat up and for a brief moment, he was confused while Roy was presently horrified since the corpse hadn't been freed, but that certainly wasn't the case when the already decaying arm was subject to enough force. 

Disturbingly, Jason laughed a bit when he realised what happened and he raised the now detached limb by the ring finger. He turned it to examine closer. His smile was a pleasantly surprised one that actually revealed the dimple on the untarnished side of his face. The sparkle of light in his eyes was nightmarish, given the circumstances.

"I fucking _pulled_ his arm off." Like a proud child, he extended it for Roy to be _graced_ by a full frontal display that he regarded with a queasy smile and his fastest nod.

"L - let's get the rest of him out, yeah?" God, Roy felt sick and the fact that Jason intentionally slowly broke the fingers out of lingering grudges he had against Dick didn't help one bit. Roy felt breakfast rising up his constricting throat. When eventually, the archer managed to convince the maniac to stop playing with the fucking arm and put it in the body bag they brought with, they continued. This time, Roy dragged the remains out to avoid any further dismemberment. 

Over these past few weeks, Roy had been finding his hair was turning grey a lot faster than his age could be held accountable for.

When they were done there, Jason casually dropped that he also slaughtered his world's Victor Zsasz, stashed what was left in a crawl space in Arkham Asylum, and they should probably go grab that too. Roy was hesitant to ask who else he'd murdered.

And _no_ , of course, Roy didn't approve of Jason looting Dick's body, but how was he supposed to stop a lunatic from turning into the seagulls from Finding Nemo, when it came to the escrima sticks, batarangs, hook shots, and other gadgets Dick had on him? 

When he couldn't carry everything he wanted on him, Jason opted to take the whole utility belt and slung it across his chest. 

 _Fine_. Fine, with all the shit Dick had put Jason through in mind, Roy could compromise and let him keep it.

* * *

 

Bruce was writing. Bruce was writing something he was hunched over on the computer desk with and despite Jason asking him what it was every five seconds consecutively, he refused to give anything away. 

Sighing intentionally exaggeratedly, Jason lay across the hood of the batmobile, neck bent backwards over the edge so he could look at an upside-down Bruce in sheer boredom. Dick and Damian were sparring outside and for Jason, that was way off limits. Roy and AK were hounding the city for everyone the nutcase had shown the face of God to, and that was also something Jason wasn't allowed to tag along with. Damn his stupid seizures that made everything routine a health risk.

He'd made a big show of wanting Bruce all to himself but having only him for company was painfully uneventful.

"Bruce," Jason vocalised himself after a painstaking five minutes of nothing but Bruce's pen scrawling across the paper.

" _Yes_?" Bruce asked, came off as agitated for the umpteenth interruption, and stopped writing.

"Once we get rid of AK, I can go back to normal activities, right?"

"That depends. What activities are you planning?"

"Oh, you know," Jason shrugged casually, "Patrol, training, going outside, and lots and _lots_ of crazy hot all-nighter shower sex."

Clearing his throat, Bruce stiffened and Jason grinned to himself at the reaction he incited. Like most parents, Bruce didn't care to know about Jason's life in the bedroom. He went so awkward it was hilarious, so _technically_ , it was all his fault when Jason brought it up.

"... Yes. I think you can." Bruce said, his uncomfortableness legendary, and he quickly returned to filling the sheet of paper with sentences.

"And which positions do you think would be unsafe? Fucking is only fun if-"

"Jason, _please_ , I need to concentrate." There was the undertone of a real plea to his voice and for a moment, all was silent. Jason actually let Bruce have the quiet he needed to correctly arrange his thoughts onto the note, when hideous music with the lewdest lyrics Bruce had heard since the last time Jason hacked into the cave's speaker systems boomed out of seemingly every spare inch of space throughout the Bat's HQ. The walls were vibrating with the volume and the bats on the ceiling were screaming in terror, leaving their perches to fly in frenzied circles of panic. The screeching of the animals and the unbearable trash Jason called _music_ rattled Bruce's brain in his skull. He was compelled to put Jason in a soundproof cell, only he raised his eyes to the computer monitor and from its reflection, watched his son sit cross-legged on the batmobile, staring at him with a silent dare to revert his attention.  In his upturned palm, Jason held the phone responsible for the vocals howling through the speakers.

Bruce didn't take a minute to set off a low-frequency short distance EMP that went just far enough to fry Jason's phone.

"Fuck! _Bruce-_!" Jason exclaimed when his screen went black. He started ranting and raving but Bruce found asylum in covering his head with his cowl, switching on the noise cancelling setting intended to protect hearing from things like sonic booms or even the Canary cry. 

Before long, Roy and the Arkham Knight made their return with not one,  but two body bags. Jason was carrying both of them, on his shoulders, and Bruce was pleased to see his brace was doing its job.

He didn't ask who the other body was or where Jason got the new bits of equipment from. He had a feeling he didn't want to know. _Wait_. Was that a dismembered arm tucked into the belt across his chest? 

"Hey, Hood!" Jason yapped, got his identical to instinctively look in his direction and before gingersnap could stop him, had thrown Dick's arm across the room, hitting Hood square in the face with it. The thwap of dead flesh was beautifully in sync to the yelp of surprise and crash when Hood fell back off the batmobile - _with_  the severed limb falling on top of him.

" _AHAHAHAH-_!" Jason was bent double, wracked by mad hysterical laughter and the look Roy gave him was the most suffering side-eye in recorded history, exhaling quietly when he went to help Hood. 

 **"Boyo, sometimes you disturb even** **_me_ ** **."**

"You _fucking_ -!" Hood lunged for him, holding by the wrist and trying to swing the arm at him when gingersnap caught him around the middle. They struggled - all three of them did, and in the end, it was poor unfortunate Roy who got a face-full of their morbid plaything, the solid whack enough to make him gasp and stumble back. Both Hood and Jason stopped the moment they worried they'd hurt him. 

Both his hands over his face, Roy took some slow shuddering breaths and looked at Bruce through his spread fingers; his eye was already tinging bloodshot, surrounded by a red mark that would soon be black.

"Bruce, please, _please_ , _**please**_ tell me you can get that zeta tube working soon." A plea. That was a plea. Jason and his doppelganger felt terrible now. Hurting each other? That was fun. But hurting Roy? They could both agree this once, that they should burn in hell.

* * *

 

The Watchtower. Bruce wanted to go to the Watchtower, since it was equipped with long-range zeta tubes charged to the brink for something as drastic as an interdimensional jump. Yeah, Jason knew it was coming but the instant Bruce said,

"Let's go."

He couldn't help but experience five sorts of anxiety with a large dose of dread.

_"It's gonna be okay."_

Jason had been doing a very _normal_ thing when he was interrupted. In the kitchen, he was heating up one of those alphabet fridge magnets on the stove. It was a J. The green plastic was sizzling and melting off, toxic fumes rising in plumes but the smoke detector he destroyed was in no shape to alert anyone of what he was doing. Molten plastic was like napalm on exposed human flesh. 

 _No_. Jason wasn't going to _really_ throw this in Hood's face, but he did want to disconcert the people who thought that's what he was planning. Except Bruce entering the kitchen put a halt to his plans. Begrudgingly, Jason went with him down to the cave at his beckoning.

And he was made to leave the burning magnet.

Gingersnap was there - a blotchy bruise over his reddened eye and cheek, appearing drop dead tired and by the way Hood was gazing at him, he was still trying to apologise for bludgeoning his boyfriend with a severed and decaying human arm.  

**"Haha. Good luck..."**

Roy perked up a bit once he saw them.

"You're going _now_?" Despite him practically begging for this  to happen, he didn't sound all that happy now that it was, like a worried parent when their only child is at his first sleepover with a friend.

"The fabric between our dimensions is getting weaker and weaker by the hour," Bruce explained. "If we leave this any longer, we could be looking at a cataclysmic paradox."

".... Oh." Roy's gaze fell and unmistakably, that was a hint of displeasure Jason saw. Hood spied that too and scowled venomously. Hood didn't like it one bit that gingersnap had any affection towards him. _Ha_. Jealous bitch.

"Chill, gingersnap," Jason said, coming up to them and shamelessly, he raked his fingers through Roy's hair, brushing back the long strands with an intentionally wicked smile to Hood, made especially evil because Roy _allowed_  for this to happen.

"I'll be okay." Jason assured and Roy fixed him with an intent expression.

"Stay away from Slade and his influence, don't get into fights when you're overpowered, do _not_ follow clowns down dark alleyways, go nowhere near mass murdering sociopaths," Roy paused and took a breath, "Remember to keep yourself nourished, get a minimum of six hours sleep, and I want you to talk to a psychiatrist and get on some antipsychotics. They'll help with the voices-"

"Jesus _Christ_. Anything else, _madre_?" Jason huffed but smiled through it. _Goddamn_ , ginger was so cute with his concern. Like, seriously, _aww_.

" _Roy_ ," Hood nudged his partner in the side with his elbow, "he can take care of himself."

" ** ~~Well, that was a massive lie~~."**

Bruce loaded the bodies in their bags into the back of the batmobile - the arm had been confiscated from Jason - and while he did that, Jason glanced back to the two. He still loathed Hood (fucking idiot that he was) but he was gonna miss Roy to a degree. Yes, he existed back home too, but what if it wasn't the same version? What if he was different? Evil and twisted like Dick was?

 _No_. If that's what he started thinking, he'd give himself a panic attack when he wanted to be in control of his emotions right now. He wanted to hide that he was fairly unhappy.

"Hood," Jason said to throw off his rampant thoughts.

" _What_?"

"I hope you fall down a flight of stairs and die."

Hood extended his arm with his middle finger raised, such a heartfelt response that Jason met with a smirk wider than his face could contain. While he and Hood mentally went for one another, by Jason's shoulders, Roy took him and brought him close enough to embrace, and that made Hood's face turned to soured milk. 

"Stay outta trouble, y'hear? If you don't, I'm hunting you down." Gingersnap said and made Jason silently commit to a promise there was little to no chance of him keeping.

"I'll try." No. He probably wasn't and Roy had to know that.

Ordinarily, Jason  _hated_ hugs but this was one he wanted to stay in, maybe just because it ticked his counterpart off.... and maybe because he'd grown quite attached to the archer. Before long, he caved and enveloped Roy instead of letting his arms hang by his sides, mumbling into the crook of his neck something he hoped to be true,

"See you soon."

* * *

 

Bruce was aware that Jason was expecting to be given a lift to the Watchtower, then be left to drag the bodies through the zeta tube himself. But other plans were in motion. 

_"Why are you coming? What are you doing?"_

Those were the two routine things Jason asked in turn, for the whole time that it took them _both_ to arrive at his dimension and of course, Bruce did try (keyword _try_ ) to explain to him that he wanted to - in-person -  lay down the law with the League, just in case not everyone got the memo of don't hurt Jason. Don't try to apprehend him. _Do not_ lock him up anywhere, _especially_ Arkham. And such things. He also wanted to yell at them for letting Dick get away with everything they did. Honestly, it was disgraceful.

"B - Bruce!" Clark exclaimed in surprise when the Bat, without hesitation, marched into the JLA's boardroom with the Arkham Knight on his heels. 

" _Clark_ ," Bruce nodded in acknowledgement, then regarded the rest of the wide-eyed gaping Leaguers the same way. Tim and Barbara were here also, and they were more stunned than the rest, especially when Jason went in search of the nearest trash chute to fire the bodies into space with. He wasn't in such a hurry to dispose of them as he was to avoid a nervous encounter with the two remaining members of his family. 

"I thought you were dead-" Hal began and Bruce silenced him at once with the bat glare, and only when everyone was quiet, did he commence an explanation. 

"I'm from earth 52. I came to return this world's version of Jason and pass on some crucial instructions. I want all of you to-" Bruce didn't get it out before Tim bounded onto him, seemingly to smother him with the crushing force of his arms. Barbara wasn't far behind him, although she was far less of a forceful embracer. She smiled in bright surprise at Bruce from her chair and despite knowing he wasn't their version, back from the dead, this was a nice turn of events for her.

"You got my message." She said and you would have to be deaf to not hear how relieved and happy she was for that. Bruce nodded with Tim still attached to him like a limpet, face buried in his chest and there was no reason to push him away.

"I did, yes. Thank you for that, Barbara, it helped me save my son." 

"That means you stopped Dick. Where is he?" Barbara was more serious this time around and as a reply, Bruce gestured to the black human-shaped bag Jason was busily shoving into a hatch then going about opening the outer door with a protective shield of glass between him and it. 

"It was necessary," Bruce explained. "He tried destroying Gotham."

"Oh _god_." Groaning, Barbara took her glasses off to pinch the bridge of her nose, disbelieving the madness Dick had accomplished. She didn't express a hint of remorse over his death, however, which made Bruce confident that neither she nor Tim would hold it against Jason. 

"Dick didn't kill anyone, did he?"

"No. We got to him in time."

"Bruce, that's not true," Quietly speaking when he pulled back, Tim's eyes were extremely apologetic even when he hadn't said anything yet.

"I'm really sorry but Dick mur... _murdered_ your Jason. I tried to stop him, I just wasn't... fast enough." Tim glanced away when he finished, the memory still raw and sickening to look back on. 

Seeing his reaction, how the regret was real and ripping him up, Bruce felt good when he could tell him that,

"He isn't dead, Tim. He's fine."

"What? _How_? When we - me and Dick - checked Jason's pulse and he _was_ dead." Tim's eyes were wider than planet earth, visible from the windows, and he clearly wanted to believe what he was saying wasn't true, but his logic based thought process didn't allow for it.

"My Jason was subject to the Lazarus Pit years ago and it's reanimating properties are still infused to his DNA, which means his body is capable of some... _abnormalities_." 

Smart kid that he was, Tim understood the rest without Bruce having to say it. The smile this news brought on was one that defied how grateful a person could physically appear. It was clear to see in his eyes alone, how much grievous torment this took off his shoulders.  

Bruce then made certain each and every member of the League got it through their heads what lines they would bleed for crossing. Diana and Clark, at least, certainly wouldn't harm Jason, but Bruce was being precautious when he threatened them all with interdimensional warfare if anything happened to his son by their hand. He must have scared even Martian Manhunter since everyone dutifully added their agreements. 

"Need a hand, Jay?" 

Jason redirected his attention from trying to get the pin code to open the door right, to Tim and Barbara as they'd left Bruce lecturing the League to come to see him. Confused, he stepped aside for Tim to input the correct number sequence, and all three of them watched the vacuum of space suck Dick and Zsasz up and out of sight, within a second. 

Damn, that was satisfying. 

"Glad to see you again, Jason," Barbara said and hugged him around the middle, the highest her paralysis would allow her to reach, and all of Jason's gut-wrenching nervousness and dread of seeing her...  and  _Tim_.... it all faded away and he knelt to let her properly get her arms about him, an invitation which she wholeheartedly took. Another redhead whose embrace Jason could stay forever in and his blood pressure increased a few beats per minute when Barbara planted a kiss onto his forehead.

**" ~~You're pathetic. You know that, right~~?"**

_"And your dismembered corpse is floating in space."_

**"Sorry, blue bird, but I'm siding with Robin on this one. Haha!"**

"We were worried about you." She said and to Jason's surprise, Tim confirmed that with a hum of agreement. He didn't seem to mind Jason being in physical contact with his girlfriend, so it must be a Hood-thing to lose his shit over something like this. 

"But I haven't really given you guys a reason to be worried or glad to see that I'm not dead." Jason said once he could bring himself to step out of Barbara's reach, and he would admit it, their reaction puzzled him. They didn't hate him, he got that now, but they.... shouldn't be like this towards him.

"I've never been.... good to you." 

Barbara shook her head, ponytail swaying. "You saved my life, Jason. Don't you remember? From Scarecrow?"

Yeah, he did recall that.... _But_ it was also the Arkham Knight who kidnapped her to begin with.

"But I-"

"We've all fucked up, Jason," Tim told him. "For example, I waited _way_ too long to do anything about Dick, even when I knew how he was to you and what he did to your doppelganger. I was scared of him, yeah, but that's not a good enough reason to stand back.... And I'm really, _really_ sorry that I did." With his tone sounding the way that it did, _sincere_ , Jason did what he hadn't until today, and believed Tim meant that.

They spoke a little longer, until Jason realised with a massive lack in enthusiasm, that Bruce had to go home now. 

"I'm gonna miss you," Jason said, mostly into the ground he was gazing down at, as Bruce stood before him. He hadn't expected he would say that out loud since vocalising it made him realise how badly he meant it.

"You'll be okay, Jason." Bruce assured him, hand falling onto his shoulder and the old man did that thing he reserved for only a few people; he smiled, though there were emotions outside of happiness to it. He wasn't happy, not at all, but whether or not he wanted it, this was necessary. 

"Tim and Barbara and the League, they're here for you now. They'll help you get better."

"But I want _you_." Jason persisted, childishly but he didn't care.

Sympathetically, his _father_ said,

"I know, but you _don't_ need me, son." Bruce slotted his hand underneath Jason's chin, raising his head to meet gazes when he tried lowering it again.

"I know that's not what you want to hear, but it's true." While Bruce tried to make Jason believe that, he drew a plain white envelope from the depths of his utility belt, turned Jason's hand in his, and pressed it into his palm. 

"Wh - what's this?" 

"It's important, but I don't want you to read it yet. Wait a few days, wait a few weeks, as long as it takes for you to be less emotionally unstable, okay? _Promise_ me that, Jason." Good Lord, he was so stern with that  and left Jason with little other choice.

"Uh - okay. I - I promise." 

**"All those precautions and you know it's gonna be earth-shattering! Open it now, baby bird! Open it! Open it!"**

Just the eerie instructions Bruce laid down had Jason's mind going a hundred miles to every possibility of what the letter could contain, but he didn't want to think about any of them right now. For the third time that night, he was pulled into arms he didn't want to let him go. 

But eventually.... they had to.

Eyes watering over, one blink could cause a downpour of tears to slide down Jason's face when he watched the golden flash of the zeta tube take Bruce home. Not six feet of distance, underground, not hundreds of miles apart, but to a whole other dimension.

**" ~~And now it's just you, me, and Joker.~~.."**

Jason's throat was painfully tight and when he, just for a second, felt nothing but hopelessness, a warm hand slid into his and lightly squeezed. _Barbara's_ hand, and he could feel her pulse through her skin, reminding him again of what was real. And then Tim gripped his shoulder enough to let him know he was there. 

One of them said,

"It's going to be okay now, Jason."

* * *

 

They did it. _Finally_ , they got rid of the Knight. It should have felt _amazing_ but one constant burning question persisted,

"Do you think that nutcase will be okay?" Jason asked Roy, laying beside him on the bed and they both absently gazed at the ceiling through the midday light. Outside, through the open window, they heard that Damian and Dick were talking after their sparring match. Damian recovered from his abduction remarkably fast. Strong boy.

Roy took a while to respond, wondering the same thing himself.

"Yeah, I think so." 

Secretly, Jason wanted that to be true, even if his counterpart was a complete and utter moron. 

"I just hope he doesn't try to trash another universe somewhere, where they aren't as equipped to deal with a gunslinging maniac." 

"Babe, I'm _pretty sure_ he's had enough of dimension jumping for a bit."

Jason removed the arms he'd folded to pillow his head on, and rolled onto his side to face his partner. Delicately, he swept strands of red hair behind Roy's ear, out of his face and the ugly bruise he'd caused was still there, as blatant as his freckles were.

Jason bit his lip.

"I'm sorry I hit you with Dick's severed arm." Words he never thought he'd say, words Roy never counted on hearing, and perhaps it was the sheer bizarre nature of the situation that made Roy suddenly break into a smile.

"It's okay, babe." He promised. "I'll _probably_ forget the taste of decaying flesh one day." 

"You make out with a zombie regularly. What's your problem?" To emphasise that, Jason sat up, kissed him, and bruising though it was, this dead body didn't seem to cause Roy's gag reflex any trouble. No, he was quite capable of smiling through this. 

"Do you feel any better now that AK's gone?" Roy asked when Jason released him and did so little begrudgingly.

"Oh _much_ ," Jason was very truthful about that. "That crazy bitch was driving me insane. He kept _hitting_ on you, did you notice? Just to piss me off. I wanted to put a screwdriver through his head. I actually had one - _in my hand_ \- and I was gonna-"

"I meant with the seizures and the shaking. Those gotten any better?" Roy interrupted his rant and Jason sighed when he realised his partner didn't want to sit through another one of those.

"Yeah, much better." Jason admitted and added, "Roy, I wanna go home today.I'm sick of this mansion." 

"Yeah, me too. We'll go as soon as Bruce gets back and clears you.... You'll make some more of those deceptive WikiHow Dutch pancakes, though, right?"

"Hmm... Maybe."

With that, they both returned to the _fascinating_ fixation that was the plain white ceiling. 

A while passed and Jason couldn't stand the silence, not when he could repeat his original question, but it _wasn't_ because he cared.

"D'you seriously think he'll be alright?"

Roy sighed.

"There are people with him who'll help him, now that he's reacquired basic human trust and will let them, but the rest of it? He'll figure it out. I know he will." 

* * *

 

Tim and Babs went through with their promise to the very best of their abilities. They were doing their all to help and support him, any way that they could. Never once, did they call him crazy whenever he would mention the voices or question it when he would vanish for hours without explanation. Slowly, _very_ slowly, he was adapting to this new lifestyle but sometimes, he needed his space to think or just to run laps of parkour through the city.

He avoided patrol when Tim was utterly against killing and if Jason ran into a single member of the rogues gallery, who hurt him at Arkham, then he would annihilate them without a thought. Tim was trying to work with him, Jason could try the same, but if he saw say, Calendar Man or Black Mask while he was out alone.... Well, he _did_ see Black Mask alone one night, but _not_ because he purposefully broke into his building. Bruce only said he had to _try_ not breaking the golden rule, and thinking back on Sionis slowly grazing over Robin's skin with a blowtorch, Jason _tried_  really hard not to enjoy the scream when he shoved the masked bastard out of his seventy storey office window.

_"Say hi to Joker for me."_

Yeah.... Jason was going to have to work on restraint and impulse control when it concerned the scum of Gotham City.

**"Boy, once you get around to that there won't be any left!"**

Now Jason _hated_ this, but they made him talk to a psychiatrist, who he was still having major trust issues over, even hiding from on most occasions. Nonetheless, Tim and Barbara kept insisting that he try opening up. It would help him, they said and while Jason didn't doubt that, he wanted to go at this with his own pace. His... his _family_ respected that he  needed some time before he could speak about his traumas to a stranger. 

He'd get there one day. Ginger made him promise, after all.

But while Jason worked on that last part, he intended to do something else on the sidelines, but it quickly moved into the priority section.

He'd come to Star City for only _one_ reason. A reason he'd been trailing for the past week or two, and to what he'd observed, Roy was exactly the same here as he was on 52, except he tied his hair up more often and wore fewer trucker caps.

Jason wanted to approach him but something held him back, and it was no unknown thing. He didn't know what he would say. Or how he would explain himself in a way that wouldn't make Roy afraid of him. He was, after all, the Arkham Knight and he was responsible for a great deal of misery across the nation. He didn't want Roy to hate him, so he opted to keep his existence a secret and just watch the archer go about his nights.

And then one evening, he was following Roy and abruptly lost sight of him, on top of a pest control supplies warehouse. He spun a whole 360 degrees but couldn't see so much as a strand of red hair, which is when he heard,

"Heya, stalker." The voice came from behind him, from the person sitting on the roof mounted AC. Jason turned slowly on his heel to meet a roguish grin and pretty green eyes that bore a dumb-striking effect on him.

"Noticed you've been following me for a few nights."

"Uh, I... _Haven't_." Stupid lie. That was a stupid lie and he realised too late how obvious his dishonesty was. _Great_ first impression on his part.

"Okay. Alright." Gingersnap let him get away with it, smiling that amused smile of his Jason had gotten used to. It sounded in his tone, that he didn't feel threatened by Jason.

"Say you had been trailin' little ole me," Roy gestured to himself, planting his hand on his chest.

"What might you want?"

Jason didn't know what to say. He hadn't expected to be caught this fast, so he hadn't thought of any explanation or lines to deliver.

"Umm...." Fuck's sake, this was going terribly. _Preplanning_ , there's something he made a note to work on after this experience.

"S'okay if you don't have a valid reason," Roy said after a bit of Jason standing there like an idiot and the archer himself doing nothing but watching and watching and watching him. 

"I mean, I do stuff like that all the time. I love to skulk across rooftops and spy on unsuspecting people."

Jason tried looking for a sign that he was actually being serious and when he couldn't find one, remarked a simple,

"No, you don't."

Roy's grin somehow got even broader and he turned himself in with a light laugh.

"You got me." He put his hands up in surrender. "Just wanted to have something in common with you."

".... Why?" Could it be true, that Roy was  stranger here than at earth 52? It certainly seemed that way.

"Because, statistically, people with something in common are 90% more likely to become friends and by the look of those guns you're carrying, my best chance of surviving my potential murderer, is to befriend him."

"I... I'm not going to hurt you."

"You're not? That's awesome." Roy jumped down from his perch and he wasn't exactly lacking in confidence when he approached. Had Jason not already known Roy, and been sure that he wasn't a threat, he wouldn't have allowed their distance to lessen by a meter. And still, he was a little cautious despite the voice in his head that was _his_ , that continued insisting it was alright to let Roy come closer. 

Jason wasn't wearing his helmet, he hadn't for a while now and aside from a brief glance of examination of him, Roy didn't gawk at his brand, just like his counterpart never had. Instead, Roy stared at him, into his eyes, as if he was expecting something. His gaze was relentless enough to make Jason partially give in.

"I was following you so I could figure out what you're like." _And if you're anything at all like your doppelganger._

" _Oh_?" Roy knit his brows together. "Undeniably, that's kinda strange but... Am I weird for thinking that's also cute?" He quirked his head in question like he was a parrot or something. So _this_ is what he looked like without the long lasting and silent suffering of knowing that bitchy Hood. How sweet.

"Yeah, you are." Jason replied, because _yes_ , that was strange. Very strange. Who thought an armoured ex-militia commander shadowing them was cute? _Roy_. Roy Harper thought so.

"And what does the Arkham Knight want with a simple archer such as moi? And so far from Gotham as Star City?" Roy asked and may as well have hit Jason with the surprise he got from Roy knowing who he was. Why wasn't he scared? The Knight's notoriety as a ruthless killer had spread internationally and the dumb redh _ead_ was _chatting_ with him instead of looking for a kill shot.

"How do you... know who I am?" Sceptically, Jason inquired. Roy extended his arm and gave him a tap on his chest, over the white A that stood for his alias.

"Hate to tell ya, but that's a bit of a giveaway. So's the armour. Plus, everyone and their grandma knows who you are." Jason supposed they did, he did raise enough hell over five years to be noticed, but that meant Roy would base his thoughts of him on all the slaughters and bombings. And he supposed.... _yes_ , he deserved to be judged on those. It's not like he was being mind-controlled or brainwashed.

 **"** _**Not** _ **brainwashed? We seem to remember that differently, pumpkin."**

"I don't want anything from you." Not exactly true. Jason was here for something, even if he couldn't put a name on what it was. But this had been a bad idea. He should have known he'd get recognised immediately.

**" ~~Not wearing the suit might have helped, don't you think?~~ "**

**"Dressed to impress, bluebird,** _**that's** _ **what matters."**

"I - I should go." Jason turned to do exactly that. Retreat and rethink as Slade taught him. On second thought, Roy really didn't need all his issues weighing on him in any way.

"Oh, c'mon, _Jason_ ," Roy called after and Jason froze when hearing his _real_ name, and not Arkham Knight. 

"Let's catch up. I haven't seen you in six or something years."

Jason slowly revolved back around to that grin that hadn't gone anywhere, unlike himself.

"You _remember_ me?" Jason was shocked by that. _Surely_ he didn't.

"Of course I do! Our Titan days weren't _that_ long ago." Funny, they felt aeons ago.

"But you're a helluva lot taller than I remember," Roy continued on, strangely enthusiastic, and his eyes went over Jason in a second visual survey.

"Guess I can't get away with calling you shorty anymore." Oh _yeahhh_ , Jason was now spottily recalling that the archer had spent most if not all of his time on the team referring to him with that name, and just because, back then, he was barely up to Roy's shoulder.

"What were you - _ten_ when I last saw ya?"

"Fifteen, actually." Jesus, how old did Roy think he was _now_?

"Oh my _god_ , you're still practically a baby." Roy stood on his toes to pat Jason on the head, while Jason was trying his very best to figure out what was going on. Did _that_ really just happen? Why was Roy being so warm and friendly, when he knew who Jason was? Who the _Arkham_ _Knight_ was?

Something happened and not long after, Jason found himself sitting on the edge of the roof with Roy digging for something in the hidden compartments of his quiver. Soon, after a bit of a search, he pulled out a colourful plastic packet and tore it open in between his teeth.

"Have a jellybean." Roy offered the bag, filled with bright varicoloured candies that smelled overbearingly of artificial flavour and sugar. Jason accepted a couple; he'd never been fond of sweetness on his tongue, but it seemed rude to say no.

"So how've you been?" Roy asked, chucking a handful of jellybeans into his mouth and speaking with them a slobbery mess bunched up in his cheek.

Jason shrugged. "Okay, I guess." The past few weeks involved a little more than could be explained in one sit down. Roy seemed to have something different on his mind anyway.

And Jason was right about that.

"Hey, listen," Roy said, "I heard about Dick.... Tim made sure it got out among the League, a few Titans, and those who it concerned. Diana backed him up, so that didn't really leave a lot of room to argue the validity of the claims."

Jason hadn't known what but _wow_. Tim _defended_ him? To that extent. And _Diana_ chimed in too? He couldn't say he was ungrateful.

_"It's been established that Tim doesn't hate you."_

"But a lot of people trusted and loved Dick. Isn't it bad for them to reveal all that?"

"Not everyone knows. Just the people who matter. And I guess it's a little bad, but Tim and Babs made a judgement call. It was either Dick's name gets rightfully dragged, or every self-righteous hero out there hunts you down for revenge, since it's bound to get out that the Arkham Knight offed that bastard." _Oh_ , so Roy knew about _that_.... Jason waited for the 'how could you?!' but got none of that and instead replied with,

"I'm good at running. I could have handled it." Jason said, absently rolling the uneaten jellybeans around on his palm.

"Yeah, but you don't need it, shorty. Wouldn't be a bad thing for you to get some R&R." Roy ate another handful of the sugary trash and stared at nighttime in Star City for a few minutes that made Jason run mental laps, trying to hear his thoughts. Thank goodness Roy had him covered when it came to that.

" _Jesus_ , I can't believe the sick shit Dick was doing to you." Roy mused, and he was unmistakably harbouring resentment toward his former friend, visible from his tone and hard set eyes. Like any decent person, he didn't stand for child abuse.

"Shows you don't really know anyone. Fucking incestuous whack-job..."

Jason glanced at him, actually surprised at how one of Dick's best friends could turn on him, even with all the evidence and reasons stacked high. He was still getting used to the realisation that people knew in reality, the golden boy wasn't quite so shiny. He wasn't properly accustomed to.... _Anyone_ having his back.

"You know you can't look solemn while stuffing jellybeans, don't you?" Jason asked and snapped Roy out of the trance of sombreness he'd fallen into. He smiled again.

"Got me there, kiddo." Jason didn't bring up how their age gap was _barely_ seven years, and even if he did, it wouldn't stop the archer pulling the seniority card.

"By the way, Jason," Roy went on, "I know you've done some shit - hell, I've done more than my fair share, but... You ever need anythin', hit me up."

He'd known Roy was nicer than your average human being, but Jason was unsure about him and his reasoning when he said that.

"Thanks, but... Why would you do that?"

"It's as simple as I want to. You were a good kid, despite the mouthiness." Roy tipped his head, reminiscing. "What was that thing you used to call me? Ginger... _Something_?"

" _Snap_. Gingersnap." Jason told him, Roy chuckled light-heartedly.

"Oh yeah. _That_. How could I forget?"

Unlike Jason had expected, they spent considerable time after that just.... _talking_. Not about anything in particular, and yet it was among the most intriguing conversations he'd had in a long time. Roy smiled a lot. It was nice to see and actually reached his eyes with a small light to show it was genuine. He laughed a lot, too. It seemed, almost at everything Jason said and there was always the hum of amusement when he did. It was... Nice. The sort of nice you could get used to.

**"Aww, isn't this sweet? Our baby's made a friend."**

**" ~~I~~** ~~_**fucking** _ ~~ **~~told Roy to stay away from him~~...."**

Jason ignored the voices to the best of his ability. He focused on Roy. Roy was alive and Roy was really here, unlike Dick and Joker. Concentrating hard on what the archer was saying, he heard what he'd been dreading,

"Listen, Jay, it's been great catching up, but..." Roy tapped on his wrist, motioning to an invisible watch.

"My baby girl's sitter is off in a half hour."

"Oh, of course." Jason nodded, rather rapidly. He knew Roy would have to go eventually but... he had not wanted it to be this soon, even if they'd spent the better part of an hour together.

"Rose will lose it with me if she has to work overtime again." Going on, Roy stood, left his bag of jellybeans next to Jason. Jason was about to remind him to take them when Roy said,

"The rest is for you. Lian would never let me have this much sugar before bed. She's very strict with me.

Lian... His daughter, Jason presumed. He didn't think Roy had kids, his counterpart at least didn't, but Roy was the sort of guy who'd make a great dad, although Jason got the inkling that Lian was spoiled rotten by him. A proper little princess.

"Oh, by the way," before leaving, Roy turned to look over his shoulder at Jason. "It was great seeing you again so for god's sake, _don't_ be a stranger. If I don't hear from you in a week I'm hunting you down."

This time, Jason felt a smile creeping onto his lips.

"Sure." He promised and felt good about it.

"Catch you later, shorty."

Roy waved and Jason watched him go, bound across rooftops and with each leap and running stride, add more distance between them. He was already feeling a sense of loss now that he was by himself again, long before Roy was out of sight lock.

Soon, very soon, he would have to come up with an excuse to visit Star City again. He smiled to himself when he realised that Roy had left a sticky note on the side of his jellybean packet, with a phone number scrawled across it. Next to it, it read _call me_. 

_"See? That wasn't so bad. I like Roy."_

**"He's pretty, I'll give him that. Pretty... Very pretty. I almost wished I'd snared Green Arrow's bitch and not you."**

**" ~~I'll help you fuck him up. He deserves it for breaking my rules~~."**

Jason didn't care for the way they were speaking this time around. Actually, it _angered_ him.

"If you two were alive and you _ever_ hurt Roy, touched him or even  _looked_ at him, everything you did to me combined would be a pedicure by comparison."

Both Dick and Joker shut the hell up.

A while of silence passed, where Jason was thinking. About Tim and Barbara, about Roy, those jellybeans he wasn't going to eat, about 52, and he was slowly realising that... That coming home may have been the right choice after all. For the first time in years, he allowed himself the glimmer of hope that things would eventually be okay.

And that reminded him...

From the furthest depths of his pocket, Jason reached for the crumpled up note he'd neglected since Bruce gave it to him, back at the Watchtower, and he carefully unfolded it, looking at the slanted lowercase J when Bruce spelt his name on it for a second before he lost his fight against curiosity and inched the envelope open with his thumb.

Sighing, he took a second to prepare himself for what might be in it that required him to be emotionally stable. Handwritten meant personal and as far as he was concerned, personal meant bad. 

Ahem, it began with,

_"Son, there's something I need to tell you and you need to know,"_

Ominous. That was never a good start.

_"It's about what happened to your version of me. The Knightfall protocol, it was meant to be a last resort, in case Batman's identity was ever discovered and apparently, it was, or it would never have been initiated. The protocol involved making the world think Batman was dead,"_

Jason stiffened, swallowed, and soundlessly mouthed that last part silently to himself. With every word he progressed, his heart beat a little faster.

_"And no one was to know. Not allies, not family, no one. It seems cruel but it was for everyone's safety. If you, Dick, Alfred, Tim, anyone, knew I was alive, you'd try to contact me in some way. And with all of Gotham's underbelly watching Bruce Wayne's family after the discovery, if a villain realised you were in contact with Batman, your safety would have been compromised. You could have been used to get to me, and I couldn't let anyone hurt you. I needed you all to move on."_

Jason had to take a break there. He felt _sick_.

_"I'm sorry to have to tell you this way but I didn't know if you'd let me explain in person. I didn't know how you would react. Jason, please understand that I can't speak on behalf of my counterpart, and I can't say for certain that he isn't really dead, but if he isn't, in his position, I would want you to have a chance at life without Batman, when it's your involvement with him that put you through Arkham. I can't justify everything, just know that I'm sorry on his part."_

No. _Nononono!_ Gradually, heavy teardrops fell onto the paper and smudged its ink, but unfortunately, Jason could still make out the words, even with his blurring vision. 

 _"I can't answer all the questions you must have. Only he can and what you choose to do now is up to you. You needed to know this, but please, Jason, don't let Dick or Joker make the necessary decision for you. What you do now has to come from you. Think before you do anything. Go over every outcome and if it's worth it. Think about what's best for_ _you_ _."_

For a chest-constricting minute to process it all, Jason held the note by the crumbled up edges, between his clenched fists, and his eyes landed on the final phrase. _I love you_. He tore the paper down the middle and born of an unnameable emotion, violently screamed into the night, the way he had when Joker branded him. That shrill sound ran across the city, echoing for miles.

* * *

 

Jason didn't know what to do after that. He didn't go back to Gotham immediately. The following days, he stayed at an old safehouse of his, on Star City's city limit, away from the noise and distractions and annoyances of being surrounded by people. He spent a quarter of that time processing everything he now knew, and the rest figuring out what his response to it would be.

Just the idea, the possibility that all this time....

_"Remember that 52-Bruce told you he couldn't be sure it was true?"_

**"Well, if it is, I think it's disgraceful of him. Promises to help his baby birdie and then makes like a banana? That's just bad parenting."**

_"Maybe he was helping you by putting distance between the two of you?"_

**"Whose side are you on? Honestly, Robin, I am** _**shocked** _ **."**

_"I'm trying to look at everyone's perspective here."_

**"Your optimism is sickening. Haven't I taught you anything about optimists?"**

Blinking back dust particles slowly, Jason stared at the spider making its web in the corner of the ceiling, so unaware of itself that he envied it. The floor he was laying on was beginning to get uncomfortable after three or something hours, but he didn't move. Not an inch.

"Dick," Jason said, quietly, "What's your take on this?" He shouldn't be asking. He knows he shouldn't, no matter how much that gullible, naive kid somewhere in him yearned for his big brother's advice.

**" ~~I don't know, Jason. It sounds like him to vanish and make everyone think he's dead. You two have that in common~~."**

"Yeah.... but what do you _think_ I should do?"

**" ~~Choke and die~~."**

Really not surprised by that response, Jason returned to mulling this all over, by himself. His fingers were pressed against the artery in his neck while the voices kept talking amongst themselves, rarely including him in their conversation and he didn't answer when they did. Ignoring them meant they lost interest sooner.

So Bruce might actually be alive. Jason would like to proclaim, _after all this time_ , but it really hadn't been that long since his _death_. Five months. Part of him wanted to be engulfed by rage and those things 52's Dick had accused him of having,  _abandonment issues_. That's what the Arkham Knight was all about, after all, but it felt daunting to do, like a regression to a path he wasn't willing to go back down. He'd been angry until he put more thought into all of this.

Jason now realised it was likely that Bruce had never known the true extent of his and Dick's relationship, when Dick was so good at playing angel and he'd _certainly_ put a wedge between Jason and any chance of recovery. Perhaps, Bruce hadn't counted on that. Tim and Babs had put everything on the line to help him like Bruce would have wanted them to. And then there was Roy. So, in a sense, Bruce hadn't left him to work this all out by himself. That's the way he preferred to look at it.

The rest, Jason knew he couldn't answer for himself. He could only speculate to untied strings. If he was alive somewhere, Bruce could give him periods to replace the question points. All he had to do was go looking for them.

But did Jason really want that and risk reopening old wounds when he was finally in a place where he could let them heal? He wasn't on his own anymore, which added a _let's_ to _fix this._ Jason couldn't calculate how much of his life he would have to sacrifice to the potentially vain cause of tracking Bruce down to whatever world's end he could be at. He didn't know if he could put in all that energy and time, then take it if it  turned up nada.

Jason thought back on 52's Bruce and how he'd said that Jason didn't need him. Was that really true?

_"Yes. Yes, it is. It'd be awesome to have Bruce around but you don't depend on him anymore. You'll manage even if he's not here."_

In his mind, Jason had done enough travelling to last him a while. Now that he could, he wanted to stay home for a while and catch his breath. Telling Barbara and Tim about this possibility was something he intended to do, and what they did was their business. What happens next happens. They could hunt Bruce down if they wanted to.

But Jason was sure he'd spent enough of his life being hung up on the past.

* * *

 

"Hello? Daddy's phone speaking. Yes.... yes, Daddy's here but he's very, _very_ busy... making me breakfast.... I'm having cheerios. Daddy almost made me porridge but it's yucky and I'd have been cross at him."

Roy followed the giggling and the squeaky little girl voice to his daughter's living room based pillow fort, holding in one hand a sippy cup filled with orange juice as a bribe. He crouched by the low opening and smiled at the four-year-old in her wacky costume made out of painted cardboard and craft store bits and bops. A pipe-cleaner crown with googly eyes sat on top of her mop of black hair. She wasn't Lian today, she'd informed him. _Today_ , she was the president of Jupiter. Obviously.

"Excuse me, Miss President," Roy said, offering the cup. "Your refreshments are here. Shall I take the call while you go eat your Najavo cuisine five-star bowl of whole wheat Cheerios?"

The president regarded him in consideration for a moment, pouty lips pursed, and with the required amount of time to think over a matter as crucial as this, she grabbed the cup and gave him the phone in return.

"Okay, senator Daddy, but before you make an important decision, run it by me." Lian - _the president_ , left her fort with those parting words of instruction and smiling after her, Roy raised the phone to his ear. Without an ounce of hesitation or doubt wavering his voice, he answered with,

"Morning, shorty."

_"Please stop calling me that."_

Roy grinned into the receiver. 

"Never." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aannnddd we did it! Jeez, I hope AK will be okay now. A couple of you peeps wondered if there was gonna be a follow-up to this and while I'm in love with these characters, and would like to do that, I wondered if anyone else would enjoy seeing them return at some point? 
> 
> That aside, all my love and jellybeans to everyone who made it this far xxx


End file.
